Never Love A Wild Thing
by LEOLEO23
Summary: Nora Gray has lived in Beacon Hills her whole life with her mom at her farmhouse on the outskirts. Vee Sky, her best friend, catches wind about a dead body found in the Preserve beside Nora's farmhouse. She seduces Stiles into talking to her about it and thus starts Nora's delve into the supernatural world.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1: WOLF MOON

I was driving my car from Vee Sky's house. The patchy fog that clouded most of the horizon ahead had dispersed because of the beating rain that had been whipped up seconds after I left Vee's place. The windshield wipers squeaked as they parted the splotches of rain that tainted the screen.

A dark silhouette skidded across the hood of my car.

I screamed. My car groaned to a stop. I craned my neck to look over the hood of my car. I didn't want to get out because of the soaking rain, my toes would be ice by the time I entered my car again. I honked the horn and waited. Nothing came.

Then, a growling sound reverberated through my bones. The same misshapen silhouette dashed across my right window. I squealed. A claw banged against the glass, condensation quickly forming around its paw. Heavy, deep set red eyes stared back at me. I breathed slowly in and slowly out. I blinked. Nothing happened. I blinked again. Still nothing. It tapped one claw against the window. I shivered. Another low, rumbling growl slipped past its peeled back lips. I made the mistake of looking at its lengthy canines. It wasn't natural. I screamed and drove off, not even bothering to look at the boy standing in the middle of the road, soaking wet.

* * *

"We still need to watch _The Sacrifice _for the eZine." Vee Sky told me over the phone. Vee was my best friend, my un-twin. "I heard it got pretty good ratings." She said, the instant I picked up the phone.

"Mmm." I hummed. "When do you wanna go?" I already told her about my car accident. She brushed it off as a deer and said she's give me her insurance company's business card tomorrow, since I didn't have one.

"Any time's good. You know I'm free whenever so maybe tomorrow after school? Or we could just rent it from the video store place." She suggested. As we weighed our choices I put the phone on speaker and scribbled the answers to a few questions on my homework assignment. I hated Mr. Harris for all the unnecessary chemistry work he made me catch up on since my visits to the school counselor mostly took up his periods, not my free ones which I was thankful for. Vee droned on about something but I dozed off, not of sleep just dozing off because of boredom. She ended up shouting it to get me to pay attention to her.

"What?" I asked, voice groggy. Sleep was beginning to tug away at the corners of my conscious. "Sorry, chemistry homework. So what were you saying?"

"If you want, babe, I could bust up his car for you. I've already got my purse full of bricks, just say when and that D-bag is taking the bus home." She mirthed, mischievously.

"Let's not get carried away." I said, sensibly. I was on my bed, PJs on, pencil still poised to write. I folded the booklet and stuffed it into my backpack.

"All right." She sighed. "I was looking forward to it." She continued, dreamily.

"To suspension? Or worse, expulsion?"

"No, I was thinking about the look on his face when the bricks broke open his window."

"Why would you have bricks anyway?" I asked, drumming my fingers against my desk as the computer buzzed to life. I had one last piece of homework to do before bed. It was eight thirty so I had plenty of time.

"Urgh, don't even ask." Vee said. "I still can't believe we're finally doing sex for our biology class." She sang. "Finally, my day has arrived."

"I thought you said they weren't going to teach you anything you don't already know." I countered, quick to criticize.

"Don't rain on my parade just yet, babe." She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "I can hear your dead-beat computer, what're you working on?"

"Last bit of homework." I replied hastily, logging on.

"Which is..."

"History. I have to plan an essay on the Cold War. Mr. Westover said we had two weeks but I wanted to get it over and done with. How about you?"

"Please, you think I'm gonna waste my time on homework. I'll use whatever fancy new trick I learn in biology to get out of it."

"I doubt they're gonna teach you to do whatever you think they're gonna teach. It's most likely going to be all safe sex and contraceptive speeches." I said dolefully. The pitter-patter of rain outside my window distracted me from actually focusing. I went over to shut it, flush against the sill.

"Then I'll use my _own_ art of seduction." She replied, all breathy and husky.

"Vee? As in virgin?"

"Not for long..." She said, through her teeth. She told me she could hear my eyes rolling, even though I fought against it. Our conversation went downhill from there. I told her Dorothea, our housekeeper, was already out but it was too late for her to spend the night. Besides, her parents wouldn't let her. I never saw the satisfaction in slumber parties. Vee and I would usually just do what we always did: pop some popcorn and smush under a blanket on the coach watching reruns of old movies. I had just gotten home after spending the evening here. I didn't want to spend the night because tomorrow was the first day of school and I needed her to pick me up. I didn't want to drive my rusty car to school.

With my essay plan completed and printed, I took out what I was going to wear for tomorrow. I never put much thought into it but tomorrow felt different. The promise of a new day was on the verge of the horizon. Same old, same old was just not good enough. I lay some shrewd acid-washed jeans I never got around to wearing on my chair with a faded pink top. My favourite jean jacket over it and high top Converses completed the outfit.

I pulled the duvet up to my neck and shut my eyes. My sleep was peaceful, dreamless. I hadn't dreamed properly since my dad died. He was shot to death in Portland, buying my mom her birthday gift. I don't dwell on the thought as I rumble out of the covers, sunbeams streaking in through the thin curtains. I groan when I hear a horn honking in the distance. I lift my face from its mashed position on my pillow. Vee couldn't be here already, could she?

I brush my teeth, my hair and wash my face. Then I get dressed, butter a slice of toast and bring the Styrofoam coffee cup with me to Vee's Neon. Vee's car was a 1995 purple Dodge Neon and beats my car to the punch.

"Ready?" She asked. A sultry smile crept across her face. I raised a sceptical eyebrow. She huffed. "Nora, stop living life on a leash. Today is all about living on the _wild_ side." I cringed.

"Does it involve getting into trouble?" I asked, sounding very young and innocent.

"I dunno yet. I'm pretty much making this up as I go along." She revved the engine and sped off through the thick cloudy mist that clung to my farmhouse. "When are you going to convince your mom to move?"

"I like where I live." I snapped. Ever since my dad died I had clung to every memory of him I had. Over the years, as time would have it, they've faded. The only real thing left is my farmhouse which is, to be frank, a little too far off from civilization as Vee liked to remind me. Consistently.

"Chill, babe. I just hate driving through clouds. You're house is awfully close to the woods too. Aren't you afraid you'll be attacked by wolves when you're in the backyard, watering the plants?" She asked. Even though I lived on the edge of the Preserve I answered steadily.

"There are no wolves in California. We live in Beacon Hills, there hasn't been in over thirty years." I stated, matter-of-factly. Vee looked impressed. She remained quiet until we reached the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School. Vee put the car in a slot and turned in her seat to give me a once-over. I hugged my elbows defensively.

"What?" I demanded.

"Nothing. Actually, it's not nothing. Nora, aren't you sick of the same old stuff?" She asked, clipping her sunglasses to the rear-view mirror. I shrugged.

"I know I am. So let's make a pact." She said eagerly. "Let's vow to make this year more... exciting." She shuffled around in her seat, looking for something. Surprisingly, she tore out a needle from the headrest in her seat. "Blood pact." I eyed the glinting metal. She threw it to the backseat. My eyes widened. "Fine, no blood pact. Just promise me." She shook my hands from my lap. I sighed.

"Fine, Vee. I promise to try and make this year more _exciting._" I whispered the last part for emphasis on how silly I thought it sounded. But the thread that connected us, the invisible silver tie that made us friends shook. I had thought the same thing the previous night. What would make this year different? I asked out loud.

She chewed her lip as she got out of the car. I followed suit. "How about a new girl?" She asked, locking the car and then shoving the keys in her purse. "I heard she moved from San Francisco." Vee piped in.

"What's her name?" I asked, genuinely curious. Beacon Hills didn't have many new people. It wasn't a very big town but every here generally already had family ties.

"Allison something. Do you think she'll be a Marcie Millar or a Lydia Martin?"

"I think she'll be an Allison something. Why do you always compare girls to those two? We're not like them." I pointed out, pushing open the front doors. The halls were instantly filled. I checked my watch. Five minutes until homeroom. Sometimes I like to get an early start on the eZine, but today was not one of those times.

"Everyone else follows suit. You're either with them or against them. If you're with them you're one of them." She reasoned. Marcie and Lydia could be sisters. They both had the same sense of power and popularity in high school. They were also both strawberry blonde but while Marcie had freckles she hid under half a bottle of foundation Lydia's skin was pearly white. Lydia had an advantage between them. She was dating the captain of the lacrosse team: Jackson Whittemore.

"We have to publish something on the eZine by midnight. If it's not about _The Sacrifice_ we've got to find something else." Vee said from behind me. I leaned against the locker beside her's. I knew her combination just like she knew mine so there was no point in looking away.

"How about we get the scoop on the new girl." I proposed. Beacon Hills gaining population was such a rare occurrence it demanded attention. "We could ask her about where she came from and why she moved. Could make for an interesting read."

"I don't know what she looks like." Vee said, slamming her locker. She held a book to her chest, arms crossed over it. Vee was minky blonde, green-eyed and a few pounds over curvy. I was a smoky-eyed brunette with volumes of curly hair that held their own against the best flatiron. Some would say I'm redheaded, but it's actually more of an auburn colour. And I'm all legs like a bar stool.

"It won't take long to find her." We walked into homeroom and continued chatting away. The tardy bell rang and we headed off to class. I had English with Vee. We made our way to the back of the class, our favoured seats. The teacher began the lesson, hushing the class and writing _Kafka's Metamorphosis _on the board in chalk. Our teacher was a fat, balding man wearing glasses and a sweater vest. I didn't care to pay attention or bother to catch his name. I knew how to speak English and last term I got an A.

While I secretly write poetry, I don't let it show. It's not something I do very often but whenever I write once in a blue moon the poems seem pretty good. To me at lease, I don't let anyone else read them. I started after my dad died as a coping mechanism to write down my feelings. I started doing it more frequently about whatever was going on in my life at the time. Since nothing major ever happens to a teenager in school most of it is pretty dull.

"As you all know, there was a body found in the woods last night." The teacher said, turning around and dusting his hands off the chalk. Vee sat up, instantly interested. She locked eyes with me. _Did you know_ she mouthed. _No _I mouthed back. "And I am sure your eagles little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios for what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police has a suspect which means, you can give your all attention to the program on your desk." Students groaned as paper was rustled and lifted. Vee ignored it, opening a folded piece of paper she received from the boy beside her.

It isn't surprising that Vee gets a lot of attention from boys. She's sexy in an unorthodox way. Sometimes our friendship is the only thing that stands to reason why I question my jealousy. I sometimes list features of myself that are attractive, pettily, to comfort myself. My metabolism. My legs. My hair?

The boy beside me flinched. He bowed his head and started looking around, wildly. I stared at him. He was Scott McCall. Like me, he only had one friend and that was the hyperactive boy who called himself Stiles. I always thought he was pretty cute. Both of them, actually. Vee always said I could do better. Scott had wavy dark hair and matching dark eyes. He was naturally tan and had eyelashes any girl would kill for. Aristocrat nose and full lips were also attractive traits. Stiles was thinner and paler than Scott. He had a buzz cut, brown hair trimmed to three or four inches tops. His eyes were a sparkling amber and his features were sharper.

I followed Scott's gaze outside the window. A girl was sitting on a bench just outside the school. She was rummaging in her bag and had a phone pressed to her ear by her shoulder. Her dark hair flowed to her mid-back and was neatly combed straight. She was the new girl. The vice principal, in a charcoal suit, walked out to greet her. She stood and followed him out of sight. Scott moved his head, fraction of an inch by fraction of an inch until it reached the door. The vice principal opened it and Allison followed behind him.

That was odd. It was as if Scott was expecting them. As if he wasn't just watching them... "Class, this is our new student. Allison Argent." I turned to look at Vee who was waggling her brows at me. I agreed. She was pretty. "Please do your best to make her feel welcome." She shyly made her way through the desks to sit behind Scott. He wordlessly turned to hand her a pen. I was close enough to hear her say "Thanks" after a quizzical look passed over her face.

I turned the page of my text book to one-thirty-three as per request and began reading. The tardy bell rang and the class filed out. Vee was by my desk in a matter of seconds. "I think we found what to do the eZine on this week." She said.

"What about the new girl?" I asked, scooping my things into my backpack. I left the textbook out to go into my locker. Holding it by the spine I left with Vee behind me.

"Screw her. We need to do a report on the dead body they found in the woods, the woods that is very close to _your_ house." She waggled her brows and I rolled my eyes. "Why not?" She asked.

I punched open my locker, dialling the combination speedily. "Because it's police evidence." I said.

"Doesn't mean we can't snap a few quick pics." She countered. Actually it did, only authorized photographers were allowed to do that. She sighed when I told her.

"What would we post about it anyway? We didn't even know it happened." I said, stuffing the textbook into my locker. I leaned against it to press it closed. She gave me a knowing look, chewing her lip. The notebook she always carried around was tucked under her arm. She signalled with her eyes across the hall to where Stiles stood.

I raised my brows and she blew out a raspberry. "He's the Sheriff's son." Vee said. A million things were racing through her mind. First and foremost was how to seduce Stiles into giving up all the juicy details to the murder. "Murder isn't something that happens in Beacon Hills very often. It's even rarer than a boring new girl no one wants to read about." She said, hip bumping into me.

"How do you suppose we get the information out of him? If he even knows anything, that is." I said.

"Oh please, if I was the Sheriff's son I'd have a police radio tucked away in my room to listen to everything passed between them. Cops kinda turn me on, too." Vee had a kink for everything wild and dangerous. But she only would consider dating tall guys. Vee stands at six feet without heels, so most guys need to reach her pedestal.

"Then the police would be screwed because you'd be posting up everything you'd hear twenty-four-seven."

"Damn right." She replied, eyes aglow. "Who's gonna do it?" She asked.

"Do what?"

"You know. Get him to talk." Vee said. Stiles looked over and smiled. I flushed and turned to mess around with the lock hanging over my locker. "You are so smitten. Fine, I'll do it." She walked away.

"Right now?" I hissed. She turned, walking backwards, and nodded. Then she got out her phone and pressed the shortcut to recording and winked.

Beside Stiles were Scott and a dark-skinned girl named Harvey. She had on a pastel pink coloured top and a darker purple cardigan with some nice jeans. Her hair was over her right shoulder in one dark flowing ponytail. She kept her backpack slung on one-shoulder. Harvey and Stiles were deep in conversation, gesturing and flailing but Scott wasn't listening to anything said between them. Vee wedged herself between Harvey and Stiles and started talking fluidly to him. He stuttered and gasped like a fish out of water from the attention but she looked satisfied. I waited, hovering by my locker but my eyes kept trailing over to Scott when I should have been analysing Stiles. I was better than Vee at finding out the truth, especially because I always got a good read off people.

Scott had that same look on his face, staring off at Allison. The same look he had when he was expecting her to come through the door with the man like he was listening intently for something. I could imagine his ears perched up like a dog's. I couldn't see his face, though.

Allison was by her locker and actually smiled at him at first. She was caught by surprise by Lydia who walked over and poked her shoulder, fingers caressing her jacket. When Allison said something awkwardly, Lydia laughed and kept on her sunny smile. Jackson looped his arm around her waist, pressing his body flush against her's and then they kissed passionately. Allison blushed as she was forced to watch.

Lydia pushed away from him and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Allison as her mouth kept moving. Jackson leaned against the locker, one hand out stretched to support his weight. Jackson was a looker, definitely good enough to be on Vee's admirable list too, I decided. He had cheekbones that would cut you if you slapped him and his eyes were a popping shade of blue which made them stand out even more against his dark hair. He had quite the figure too, being captain of the lacrosse team and all. He was rich too and drove silver Porsche. He and Lydia made a powerful couple. She was petite with perfect clothes, perfect strawberry blonde hair and perfect makeup. She fussed with Jackson's hair as he explained something to Allison who kept stealing looks at Scott.

Lydia dragged Allison by her sleeve and they followed Jackson. He had his lacrosse stick slung over his back. They must have practice, I thought, as Harvey walked towards me. Harvey was a nice, sweet girl but too interested in what everybody thought about her. She was also too worried about popularity. But not Marcie's kind, Lydia's kind. She wanted into her clique and would kill for it. Harvey had flawless honey smooth brown skin stretched over the finest bone structure I had ever seen. She wasn't busty but had an hourglass figure.

"Can't believe new girl's already in Lydia's clique." She moaned. I nodded. She knew I didn't care much but couldn't help expressing her disbelief. I didn't hold it against her. "Say, what's Vee trying to do buttering up Stiles over there?" She jutted her thumb behind her shoulder and made a sour face.

I laughed. "She's just trying to find out about that dead body in the woods. Stiles was the perfect candidate."

"Since he's the Sheriff's son." She finished for me. "Got it. Could I borrow your notes for English?" I nodded. "Thanks, Nora. Man that teacher can ramble." Since I wasn't needing them anytime soon I ripped out the few pages of notes I made in English class and folded them. She took them and plopped them in her backpack. We chatted for a few more minutes but she left to go to the library before Vee came back with a grin plastered on her face.

"So here's what he knows," She delved. "His dad called in every officer and even the state police to look for this body. It was a girl, probably in her twenties, found by joggers. But here's the catch. They only found half." I grimaced.

"Which half?"

"Does it matter?" She asked, making a face.

"Yes. Fact before fiction."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I could go pump him for more information. It's lacrosse practice and he always sits on the bench."

"You sure Coach will allow that?" Coach Finstock was a maniac. He cared nothing more than about winning. I guess it made sense for him to teach economics, too. In the classroom he's just as mental. Vee tried to have economics axed but failed when Coach took her camera phone from her. She was recording to show how Coach shouldn't be allowed to teach legally. Ever since then camera phones have been banned.

"Maybe. I'll try my luck. I feel like a spy." She gloated. I raised my eyebrows again and she rolled her eyes. We made our way towards the lacrosse pitch. I, for one, was dreading meeting Marcie Millar there. She was head cheerleader and I was on her hate list.

"If you sit with Stiles on the bench I'll have no one to sit beside me in the stands." I moaned.

"Just... sit beside Allison. I know Lydia doesn't hate you as much as Marcie and she's leading her cheer-hags on the field." Vee said, then left to scoot next to Stiles. Coach didn't bat an eye. He blew his whistled. All the players assembled around on the field and stopped passing the ball between sticks.

I stepped up into the stands to where Allison and Lydia were already. "Can I sit beside you guys?" I asked courteously. Allison removed her bag. Lydia just nodded. "Thanks." I said and took my seat. I planned to be quiet next to them until Vee came back up but Lydia decided she wasn't going to ignore me like every other day.

"So, Nora, what's new on the eZine?" She asked politely, although her eyes didn't stray from the field – or more accurately – Jackson. I thought about her intentions and decided she was being harmlessly nice, which to Lydia meant she wanted something. But with the new girl here she probably just wanted to make a good impression and seem like she was nice to everybody.

"eZine?" Allison asked, turning to bump my knee. I recoiled and withdrew my long legs, crossing them. "I've never heard of that." She mumbled.

"Jeez, Allison, first lacrosse and now this. Have you been living under a rock?" Lydia asked, half-heartedly laughing. I made a point to chuckle when she nailed me with a black stare, avoiding Allison's stunned gaze.

"eZine is short for electronic magazine. I'm sure you can figure out the rest." I said, smiling. She smiled back. Scott balanced his stick between his shoulders when Coach yelled his name and sent him to goal.

"So, what do you write about?" Allison asked. Scott marched determined to the goal, helmet too big for his head. The goalie's stick had a wider net as a rule than the usual narrow wirings of a general player.

"Whatever comes to mind really. I write weekly with Vee Sky." I said. Lydia pointed to where she sat beside Stiles. Allison nodded. Scott was breathing slowly outward, rolling his shoulder. Allison turned to Lydia.

"Who is that?" She asked softly. She sure asked a lot of questions. But it is intimidating being the new girl. Allison, I was sure, already had an in being with Lydia.

"Him? I'm not sure who he is." Lydia said, looking at Scott. I was about to correct her and tell Allison his name when his head snapped up. "Why?" Lydia asked, unimpressed.

Allison shrugged. "He's in my English class." There was obvious chemistry between the two of them. Scott cocked his head to the left, eyes boring down into Allison's. The whistle blew and Scott threw his hands up and over his ears. His ears were supposed to be protected by the helmet, his whole head was, but his gloved hands covered most of his face. Vee startled, looking up with Stiles.

A player ran forward, ball in net, and swung it over his narrow shoulder. The ball soared through the air, whistling past and landed squarely on Scott's face. He was thrown onto his back as laughter bubbled up from the team. Vee covered her face with her hand, trying to cover the smile she had from Stiles. She craned her neck to look at me and smirked. I guess she was getting what she wanted. I hoped she was being discrete. If she was flat-out asking Stiles about the dead girl it would seem a little suspicious. But Vee had more brains than that. I hoped.

Scott rolled up, head held high. He shrugged it off and prepared himself for the next ball. He squared his shoulders. The next player caught the ball in his net and ran to circle the ball around Scott. With a flash of movement from his arm the ball nestled in Scott's net. He smiled. The rest of the players looked uneasy. Stiles' head went up like a meerkat and he shouted an encouragement. Coach's face was blank with incredulity etched into it.

The next player caught the ball and ran forward. Scott twisted his tight grip on the lacrosse stick he held, feet shredding the dirt underneath him apart. The player swung low, hoping the ball would roll it. Scott's knees bent and he caught the ball next to his foot. Stiles made another encouraging whoop as the small crowd in the stands did too. Allison was impressed and so was Lydia. A boy ahead of me now blocked my view of Vee.

Scott caught the next ball thrown.

And the one after that.

Then the one after that.

"He seems like he's pretty good." Allison commenting tentatively but smiling nonetheless. Even she was astounded and I was pretty sure she didn't understand the rules of the game properly. I swayed to try to look at Vee but the kid, wearing lacrosse uniform, was too wide.

"Oh, very good." Lydia added, clearly amazed too. Scott was happily bouncing on the balls of his feet, stick in hand. Jackson cut the line, throwing his stick out to stop the next player from shooting. His eyes narrowed at Scott's frame. Scott's shoulders visibly sagged. I sucked in a breath as Jackson started his powerful march. He ran forward on his dominant stance, suspension thickly hugging the atmosphere. One pop of gum or even a pin dropping would have ruined the moment. Coach, Allison, Lydia, Stiles and pretty much everyone else followed Jackson saunter across the field and toss the small white ball. As he jumped in the air, one leg raised higher than the other, the ball sailed from his net held by both hands all the way to Scott's net as he dipped across.

Stiles flew up, howling and hooting with Vee. They hugged. Lydia shot up too, clapping and yelling. A lazy smile spread across Scott's face. Not an arrogant one, but one of victory. Jackson turned his head to look at Lydia, still whooping. I bumped Allison's knee like she did to mine accidentally. "Impressed?" I asked rhetorically. She nodded and smiled up at Lydia's flapping black overcoat. It was February, so it was mildly cold, windy and foggy but the sun shone down on the pitch. Scott flicked out his wrist, the stick behind his shoulder and the ball was in the referee's net. The team whooped again for him.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I whispered to Vee. After school Vee had insisted we follow Scott and Stiles. We agreed something was off about those two. Even for a Sheriff's kid Stiles knew too much about the dead girl. I doubted you could overhear all that from one phone call, especially if Stiles could only hear it from the Sheriff's end of the line. Scott was another interesting case. Scott went from an underdog to a lacrosse star overnight. He wasn't even on Lydia's radar and she knew pretty much everyone, popular or not. She even knew I wrote the eZine with Vee and we weren't her favourite people. I hadn't seen Marcie Millar all day and I was grateful. Although I did catch wind of a rumour Harvey told me she started herself about her and Scott. Typical Marcie. The attention fans away from her and she has to reel back the spotlight. Come to think of it she wasn't on the pitch. Usually she'd be leading the cheerleaders who would cheer on the lacrosse players.

So Vee had decided we were to follow Scott and Stiles. Scott put his bike in the back of Stiles' Jeep and I rode in Vee's Neon. She made sure to keep five paces behind him, ten if we were on a road. We were dangerously close to my house when they stopped and parked. Vee circled and parked further back from them. We were in Beacon Hills Preserve, right beside my farmhouse. Scott jumped into a puddle, water crashing around his ankles. We were too far to hear what he was telling Stiles as he balanced on a log through the stream while Stiles sloshed his feet around in the water.

"Maybe we should get closer." Vee said from behind a smooth boulder. She pushed away, crouching low and sliding her hand across the surface of anything she could touch like those spies in the old movies. She was taking it way too far. She reached the edge where they jumped down onto the stream and stopped, keeping her nose inches from the dirt. I followed her.

The boys were walking away from us, safely metres apart. "Aren't you afraid you'll splash and they'll hear you?" I asked. She shook her head and smiled a languid smile. Vee turned so her back was to them and her front was to me. I helped lower her down, feet planting into the crevices of the wall of dirt. It was like rock-climbing, she said once she'd 'oofed' down to her feet. I hissed at her as Scott turned around. She ducked under a tree, wrapping her arms around her legs and rocking into a small ball. I splayed across the top, keeping low. Stiles shuffled in his pockets until he pulled out something he held between his fingertips. Scott threw his arms out and he turned around walking again. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

"C'mon, I'll help you down." Vee half-whispered to me. She stretched out her hands and held me as I inched to the edge. When I turned, her hands were at my waist and she helped lower me as my hands and feet slid over the rocky terrain. I grunted when I reached the floor. Vee gave me no time to rest. She crouched again and ran after the boys, keeping to the low roots of the trees. I rushed after her, hastily.

They stopped and Vee pulled me beside her behind a thick oak tree. I peeked through the wide bark and saw Scott lightly jab at Stiles' chest. Then they continued walking and Stiles laughed it off. Vee raised her eyebrows in questioning and I nodded. We made our way to the next tree, closer to them. We reach the one after that without stopping but Vee slaps her arm to my chest and I stop, dead in my tracks. The boys had stopped and were standing around looking at the floor.

"So why do you think Marcie wasn't at lacrosse practice?" I asked but Vee shushed me, cracking her way closer. I followed her and kept low like she did. "I heard the rumour she started but I also heard she got a pregnancy scare." I said and then Vee put her nail polished finger to my lips. I nodded. She was wearing fake nails but they were painted that transparent colour to strengthen them. Vee scurried to the tree directly behind Stiles without any noise and motioned for me to follow.

I dashed towards her, shoes pressing on soft leaves but no twigs snapped like I expected. "... I saw the body, the deer came running and I dropped my inhaler." Scott said, then dropped to rustle some leaves aside, looking for the inhaler he lost. Vee nailed me with a look. That's how Stiles knew all the things he did, Scott found the body. Just like Vee wanted us to go searching for it, because Stiles knew his dad received a call about it he and Scott went looking for the body and he found it.

Vee brought out her phone and started furiously typing away. She showed me the screen. It read: THAT EXPLAINS WHY SUNDAY NIGHT WHEN YOU WERE COMING BACK FROM MY HOUSE YOU HIT A DEER. My car's windshield was bisected with a small crack. Since I didn't actually have insurance Vee gave the phone number of her's and I had called them. The crack was gone already, they worked fast. Just like their business car said.

"Maybe the killer moved the body." Stiles said. A shudder licked the length of my spine from the small of my back to the base of my neck. Vee looked at me and put her hand over mine where it lay on my knee.

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks." Scott said, insensitively. Leaves crunched underfoot as Stiles smacked Scott. Vee craned her neck to see beyond the tree. I went around the edge, scraping my feet into soil, to see from the other end. A man stood across the distance. He was sinisterly wearing head-to-toe black: Black shoes, black belted jeans, an open collared black shirt and a shiny black leather jacket over it. Vee reached out to grab my hand as she fanned herself and mouthed "Ohmigod". Her finger traced my birthmark. It was placed on my wrist and sardonically looked like a scar. Whenever people saw it they widened their eyes and kept quiet or were blunt and asked if I cut myself. Scott stood from his crouch as the man walked over the leaves. His skin was fair, teetering on the edge of pale but he had a healthy pink flush to his sharply chiselled cheeks. His chin was jutted out proudly, jawline curvy, nose straight as the crow flies and dark brows knitted together. His hair was just as black as his shirt, straying from purely black to ebony. He was cleanly shaven, lips full and pouty. He looked a bit too much like an underwear model, especially with his quaffed hair.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, voice rumbling deep. I blinked, unsure if he was talking to us or the boys. He blinked. His eyes were obscenely asparagus green. Scott was frozen. Stiles ran a hand through his buzz cut, other hand sunken into his pocket. "Huh?" He pressed. "This is private property."

"Uh, sorry man, we didn't know." Stiles lamented.

"Yeah, we were just looking for something but..." Scott said. Derek raised his brows expectantly. "Um, forget it." He said, voice cutting like steel abruptly. "Uhm." Scott's hand flashed out as something rectangular was thrown at him. His inhaler. The man's hands protectively descended into his jacket pockets. Scott stared at his open palm, inhaler balanced on it, stretching his fingers out. The man turned to leave. I opened my mouth but Vee made violent gestures to throttle me if I tried to speak. I shut my mouth, teeth knocking together.

"All right, come on, I gotta get to work." Scott mumble, rubbing the inhaler between his fingers. Stiles had his mouth open, jaw slacking.

"Dude," He said, slapping Scott's chest with his palm. "That was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He's only like a few years older than us." Stiles said. Vee was pressing the side of her face to the tree, blending them together. I watched her absorb the knowledge I already knew.

"His family." Stiles pressed after Scott asked. "They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago." Vee's wide bottle green eyes met mine. She had her mouth hanging open in horror. Derek Hale was one of the few survivors of the fire, so was his sister, Laura.

"I wonder what he's doing back." Scott thought out loud. He left with Stiles shortly afterwards. Vee rose from her crouch, dusting off her clothes. I waited for her to say something, ask anything but she didn't. Her mouth still hung in that silent O.

My dad was a private investigator. He decided to investigate the Hale house fire, on his own accord, since although technically it was thought to be electrical malfunctioning it was considered arson. About after a week of investigating he was shot to death buying my mother's birthday gift. I never made the connection. Until now.

Vee drove me home, mostly in silence. After she asked how I was doing she began to think out loud. She began wondering why Derek Hale was back in town after ten years. She also said she remembered his sister wasn't killed in the fire because she wasn't home either.

"Vee? Remember my dad was on this case. My mom never put away his things. They're all still in his study." I said.

"Is Dorothea there?" Vee asked.

"I think so but we can wait her out, can't we?" I said. Vee nodded. She drove us to my drafty eighteenth-century farmhouse, the nearest neighbours about a mile away. Dorothea was already in the kitchen, finishing scrubbing the dishes from yesterday night. My mom worked for the Hugo Renaldi Auction Company, coordinating estate and antique auctions all over the East Coast. This week was upstate New York. Her job required a lot of travel so she paid Dorothea to cook and clean but I was pretty sure in fine print on her job description was keeping a watchful, parental eye on me and, occasionally, my un-twin Vee.

"Hey girls. How was school?" Dorothea asked in a slight German accent. She was scrubbing vigorously at some overcooked lasagne in a casserole dish.

"Fine." Vee and I said at the same time.

"What's for dinner?" Vee asked, a glint in her eye.

* * *

I blinked the porch lights twice after Dorothea honked her horn twice. She left, speeding down the road. Vee and I shared and a look. When we decided in a beat it was clear, we rushed upstairs. My dad's study was the second door to the left of the stairs.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Nora?" Vee asked, tactfully. I wasn't sure, at all. But if my dad had been murdered because of this case, I needed to know what he knew. Then again, if what he knew was the reason he was killed wasn't it safer to burn whatever was inside there with gasoline? Before I had anymore moodswings, I formed a fist over the door handle and pushed it aside.

I didn't register the room as I would usually. All I could do was smell the smell of spicy soap and squeeze my eyes hoping no tears leaked. Vee was at my side, hand rubbing my back in circles. "I'm fine." I said curtly. I pulled open the first drawer on his desk. It was empty, save for his licensed Glock .45 and a clip of ammunition draped over it. I slammed it shut and pulled open the second drawer. A stack of folders, unlabeled, with rough-edged papers were piled atop each other. Vee gave me a one-armed hug and helped bring it out.

"Wait, Nora this is all legal paperwork. Marriage certificate, adoption papers, divorce papers..." Pure ice flowed through me. I swallowed thickly and peered through the curtains of my hair. Vee tucked a lock behind my ear and pushed a folder towards me.

Marriage papers. I pushed it away. She slid the adoption papers towards me. I peered at them long and hard. I thought I'd burn a hole through them. I tore the divorce papers from her hands. I winced at the thought of her having paper cuts and apologized quickly. It was all here, sprawled out before me. Even the his driving licence, license to his gun and motorcycle were in front of me. Every article had his name, Harrison Grey, printed on it. Blythe Grey, my mother's name, was the only proof of his marriage to her on their divorce papers and marriage papers. I dry heaved.

Vee dashed away and got me a bucket, holding my hair back for me. My parents were divorced and I was adopted. Cold, hard truth clipped me in the jaw. But if they were divorced why would my father bother to get her a birthday gift the day he died? Was it an excuse? I threw up the contents of my stomach. I kicked away the bucket and wiped my mouth and nose with the back of my sleeve.

"Oh, babe." Vee crooned, hugged my head to her chest. I cried and didn't call my mother before bed like she asked I do. The wound is still fresh when I go to sleep. I popped my iron pills before bed, swallowing them dry. Vee reminded me of my anaemia. I thanked her and dozed off to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Vee had made me breakfast the next few days, which passed by in a blur. It was always a buttered bagel with orange juice and cereal with the milk already poured for me. I told her bluntly I didn't want to be treated any differently until I talked to my mom about what we found. She nodded and drove me to school, talking non-stop which I was thankful for. She walked around eggshells on the Hale fire but talked freely about how hot Derek Hale was. I didn't know how old he was but he was definitely over twenty and I didn't want Vee to become jailbait. I also knew advising her against it would make her want him even more, so I just hummed and nodded. He was cute, in a dark brooding way. "I guess that just isn't my type." I said as Vee pulled up to park the car on Friday. He was a little unsettling to say the least, but I knew Vee was attracted to danger.

"Who is your type? Stiles?" She asked. Stiles was funny, cute, intelligent, charming and sweet. What else did you want in a guy? A dark part of my mind said danger, but that sounded too much like Vee so I brushed it off as Vee actually talking out loud. I must've listed all the attractive attributes Stiles had. Looking at my expression Vee rolled her eyes. I more heard it than saw it. "If you're so sweet on him just ask him out. How could he say no to you?"

"By saying, 'Gee, Nora, you're nice but I don't wanna go out with you.' Like that." I said, irritably. She tried brushing it off and continuing good-humouredly. "I do want to still go see the lacrosse try-outs today." I mumbled.

"Maybe you'll finally suck it up and talk to Stiles." She said, waggling her brows. That was becoming an unattractive habit. I followed her to the stands where we sat with Harvey. "Finally decided to see what all the fuss was about?" Vee teased. Harvey nodded, laughing lightly.

If my father really was killed because he was close to the truth behind the Hale house arson, he wouldn't keep it in his study where anyone could find it. Not in the drawers anyway. Maybe in the computer. I knew his password was my mom's birthday. Ironic. It was also the date of his death.

Stiles flailed in front of Scott and started talking to him, excitedly, but Scott ran off to play and Stiles had disappointment written all over his face. "Go!" Vee ordered. "Go talk to him." She said. Harvey looked at me.

"Who? Stilinski? I dunno. He's cute and all but a little too sarcastic for my taste." Harvey remarked.

"Well that's good because that's just how Nora likes them." Vee uttered, nudging me. I curled my toes in my sneakers to dig them into the floor. "C'mon, Nora." Vee pushed me harder and I scuttled back. I shot her a black look, courtesy of Lydia, and stepped down the stands.

Just then I came face-to-face with Marcie Millar, the only sophomore ever to become head cheerleader. Her strawberry blonde hair was combed into low pigtails, skin paled by the foundation. She smiled. There were three-quarters of an inch between the hem of her skirt and the start of her underwear... if she was wearing any.

"Hey Nora." She said.

"Marcie—"

"Ugh." She raised a hand over my chest to stop any insult spewing from my mouth. "Let's not trade ugly remarks." She said. "Put the past in the past?" She asked, handing me her hand.

"What's caused this sudden change of heart?" I asked sceptically.

"I thought... what if I was the dead girl found in the woods the other night. I'd be remembered poorly in your eyes. Then I thought, what if you were her. And I just wanted to be nice and say, if you are dead and found in the woods at least this moment will brighten up your depressing lonely day." She smiled a bright eye-popping smile. I made a guttural sound low in my throat and shouldered past her.

Stiles was sitting on the bench. "Stiles?" I called. He turned to look at me. His eyes softened and his face broke in an ear-to-ear smile. He patted the seat beside him. Stiles and I had known each other since kindergarten. I was there when his mom died, I hugged him at the funeral and he was there was my dad died, he hugged me at the funeral. It wasn't a particular healthy relationship, so I decided to be nice to the boy who gave the softest hugs.

"If you're here about the dead girl found in the woods fibre analysis came back from LA. Animal hairs were on the body. Wolf hairs." He said. I sat further back in the bench, gaze drifting from the small, white ball being tossed around.

"What does that mean? There are no wolves in California." I said. He looked at me with an eyebrow raised. I composed myself, straightening my spine.

"I don't know." He mumbled, looking at Scott with a ball in his net. He started running, side-stepping one guy but Jackson crashed into him. Scott landed flat on his back. Jackson lifted his helmet to stare down at Scott. Scott's face twitched. I looked at Stiles who shrugged.

Scott met Jackson in the centre of the field, ball up for grabs at the count of the whistle. They slammed their sticks down, each on opposing sides of the ball. The whistled sounded and Scott flicked the ball up into his net. He dashed away, leaving Jackson stupefied. Scott raised his stick over one guy's head when Jackson stormed towards him. He slithered around a second guy and jumped, narrowly avoiding hitting one guy who was standing with his stick poised for a solid hit.

Still holding his stick with one hand Scott danced around the others guys with such grace it made everyone else seem impossibly clumsy. Then, with three guys creating a shield running towards him, he leapt up and did a backspin in the air. Landing on his feet he propelled his stick forward, ball soaring towards the goal and going between the goalie's legs. Cheers and applauds rocked the pitch as Scott raised his arms. Other members of the team went to clap him on the back. Allison jumped up and clapped. Jackson was across the field, staring daggers.

Coach screamed, "McCall! Get over here!" When Scott jogged towards him he continued. "What in God's name was that? This is a lacrosse field. What, are you trying out for the gymnastics team?"

"No, coach." Scott replied bashfully.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded again.

"I don't know. I was just trying to make the shot." Scott said in, what sounded to be a hurt voice.

"Yeah, well, you made the shot. And guess what?" He asked. I was pretty sure if he didn't give Scott good news he'd have an angry mob chasing after him. "You're startin', buddy." He slapped his shoulder. "You made first line. Come on!" Everyone in the stands was on their feet. Except Stiles. He had a look on his face that I couldn't quite place.

* * *

My evening consisted of trigonometry homework and Dorothea's company. When both were gone I felt inexplicably lonely. I had to go back to my dad's study, I had to log onto his computer and see what I could find there about the Hales, the fire, anything connected to his death. But I couldn't. I was too scared. So I was glad to hear my phone ring.

"Hey." I said, not even looking at the caller ID. I didn't have to.

"Hey. What are you wearing for Lydia's party today?" Vee asked. I heard the click of her hangers as she put back an outfit and pulled one out.

"Yeah, about that... I was kinda thinking about not going." I said and waited to hear the thunderstorm over the other end. Vee breathed in and out. "Are you trying to not hyperventilate?" I asked. Even though I couldn't see her I knew she nodded. "It's not like I don't _want_ to go. Stiles will be there because he's on the lacrosse team and I really want to talk to him again but..." I didn't know what the end to that sentence was.

"But you don't want to because of all that stuff we found about your dad. You've avoided your mom's calls for three days now and lied about it to Dorothea. Nora, you've got to confront her." Vee reasoned.

"Easy for you to say. You didn't just find out you're adopted and your adoptive parents were actually divorced." I snapped back. Vee sighed.

"But a night of fun might ease your heavy conscious." She sang. It wasn't likely. Not even baroque music could ease my heavy conscious with its neat, simple notes. I tried getting back to the cello too but that was a no-go, I didn't even own one anymore. Photography for the eZine was also forgotten and my poetry book was locked in my drawer gathering dust. Still, a night out could potentially do wonders. "C'mon, please, Nora." Vee begged. I sighed. She was very persistent when she wanted to be.

"Fine." I deflated into the phone. "But I don't know what to wear." I said, trotting up the stairs to go to my bedroom down the hall.

"I'll be over in a millisecond to help you." Vee offered. Vee was bouncing the Neon down the driveway five minutes later and honking the horn staccato-style to warn me to open the door. It usually took me ten minutes to make the drive between our houses, but I kept to the speed limits. Vee knew what speed meant, but limit wasn't in her vocabulary. I trotted open to open the door for her. She was wearing a midriff skin-tight white tube top and a light pink skirt over panty hose with crazy slits cut into them. Her hair was in a tight ponytail and studded earrings. She had hot pink lipstick that matched her hot pink flats. I had begged her to lend me the shoes not a week earlier but she was saving them for a special occasion.

"Go shower, we have time. I'll lay out your outfit on the bed." She said, climbing the stairs. I tripped down to my undergarments in my room. Vee and I weren't shy around each other; we even knew our bra sizes. The shower was hot at first, I yelped and jumped back. When it had cooled off a little, the spray bashed against my shoulders soothingly. I lathered my hair with soap, twice, and dragged a bar of soap through every square inch of my body.

I wrapped a towel around myself and walked out. Vee was lying on my bed, ankles crossed in the air, elbows propped up and holding her phone that was blasting some music with her earbuds plugged in. Her notebook was strutted under her.

I slipped on underwear through the towel. Vee stood up and looked away, holding the towel so it was blocking my frame. I strapped on my bra and dropped the towel in the wastebasket in the corner of my room. My outfit was a white tee with a black print of an owl made in small dots spaced apart, some black pants, ankle-length burgundy boots with heels and a khaki jacket with leather sleeves. Hair frizzed out and lip gloss on Vee stuck her notebook under my mattress, where I kept my diary, and I made note to read what she was always writing in there.

"Excited?" She asked, putting the car into gear and rolling out. Lydia Martin's house was a fifteen minutes drive from Vee's house, which was ten minutes away. Twenty-five minutes drive all in all. Vee offered me some makeup, but I declined. She was only wearing lipstick and blush, but had fake nails and mascara in her purse. I thought the blush was a little too much. Who did she expect to meet at Lydia's party anyways? Well, save for all the cute upper-classmen and lacrosse players that would most surely be attending. I told her to watch her alcohol and she flirtatiously smiled, batting her natural eyelashes.

"So, have you planned what you're going to say to Stiles yet?" Vee asked. She made a sharp left and I clutched the armrest.

"Easy, Vee. Do you want to kill us?" I asked, still gripping anything I could clutch. She rolled her eyes.

"You're avoiding the subject." She persevered. No. I didn't know what I was going to say to Stiles. I hoped he would find enough conversation for the both of us to endure. I also hoped he would find his lips on mine tonight. Love was never part of the plan. But who's talking about love so soon? I wanted to be different, to have change slap me across the face. I wanted... _him_.

"No I haven't planned anything." I said.

"That's so unlike you. You plan everything." Vee said. "Is it about what we found?"

"No!" I snapped. Vee flinched. "I'm sorry, it's just that... you've been treading around eggshells and I just can't take it anymore. I'm calling my mom today. Dorothea says she'll be back next Sunday."

"Okay." Vee said simply. She pulled up into the party. We walked inside together in silence. Most of the party attendees were comfortable, they were regular party-goers. I had no idea what to do. I usually put school before everything else, Vee would occasionally drag me somewhere and we would do something similar to fun... but nothing ever as extreme as a full-blown red plastic cup and gyrating bodies party. Vee dove straight for the table lined neatly with those cups filled to the brim with some cheap alcoholic stench wafting out of them. She gave me a look. "Do you really wanna be sober for the whole night?"

"I wouldn't mind. Especially if the cops show up." I said, elbowing my way through the living room. With so much body heat, the jacket was starting to cling to my already sweaty body. Cold sweat drooled down my spine. "Um, Vee? What do we do?" I asked lamely. She gave me a look. I was basically only here for Stiles, but he wasn't here and I didn't want to seem too clingy.

"Party...?" She cocked her head to the left. Then pushed the cup against my chest. "Take it. Down it. Get another. Repeat." She said. Then the music started bouncing higher. She threw her fist in the air, doing a motion that looked like she was swinging a rope like a cow girl. "I love this song!" She grabbed my wrist. I crushed the paper cup. She eyed me disapprovingly, then handed me another one. The alcohol had spilled on my shoes.

"I'm gonna go get a towel." I said, and weaved around all the people. I turned back as I reached the sliding door. Vee had moved to the backyard, and was sandwiched between two jocks dancing between them by the pool.

Climbing the stairs made the music mute. I rounded the corner, massaging my temples. Locking the door behind me I searched the pristine white bathroom for a towel. I made due with a fluffy white robe and rubbed it across my burgundy boots. They weren't stained but the towel was. I threw it under the shower, flicked it up and let it soak for a bit. I sat on the toilet while the water ran down in spirals in an amber-tinged colour.

I got up after about thirty seconds and with a flick of the wrist the water stopped As the remnants of the water gathered around the plug, the water turned pink spontaneously. It was the same colour as when Lionel, Dorothea's godson, had spat out water from a bottle cleaning his glass cut tongue. He dared me to lick the shard when we were playing in my house and broke a vase. I said no, of course, and he called me a coward and did it himself. A minute later and he was spitting out pink dyed water, the cut on his tongue completely healed.

The water streamed around the plug until a shape was formed. When it was it turned darker and darker until it was bright red, like blood. The shape was something I had seen on Celtic artwork before. A spiralled triskele. From the middle, which in this case was the plug, outwards were three scarlet red spirals. I flipped out my phone and snapped a picture. Then I let more water hail down until it was completely washed away. I kicked the robe out of the shower stall and ran out.

Marcie Millar stood in the hall, flanked by two girls. One was a raven-haired pale girl everyone called Snow White and the other was a taller, meaner, waspy looking girl who was as blonde as I was, the black roots very visible. With a wave of Marcie's hand they disappeared.

"Nora, you look a little..." She paused for dramatic effect, hand on her hip accenting the curve of her body. "Flushed." She finished. I looked down and the sleeves of my khaki jacket were wet from the spray of the shower. I took off my jacket and folded it under my arm. Marcie was wearing a strapless black lace dress. It had a sweet-heart neckline, structured bodice, zip fastening at the back and a flared skirt.

"Thanks for the heads-up." I said, and brushed past her. Her exposed shoulder jerked against mine, her necklace jingling as she did it. Harvey snorted from across the hall. Marcie gave her a hard look as she walked past her. Harvey came to walk with me down the stairs.

"Is it ruined?" She asked, fingers brushing the leather of my jacket sleeves. I shook my head no and went to find Vee.

"Actually," She said, grabbing my hand. "Why don't I take that from you? I'll meet you upstairs, this'll be in the kitchen." Harvey said, taking my jacket and widening her eyes looking behind me. When I turned I saw Stiles walking up to me. I did a small wave and he flashed me a goofy smile.

"Hey, I was hoping to catch you here." He said.

* * *

We talked for ages. Harvey resurfaced back upstairs where Stiles and I had moved to and told me Vee had put my jacket in her car. When I asked about her, Harvey said I didn't want to know. Vee was my ride, so I had to know. But when I told Stiles where I was headed he said, "I could give you a ride home."

"That's very nice but I live in the farmhouse at the edge of Beacon Hills Preserve." I explained.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He said mockingly. I jabbed at his shoulder with a closed fist, thumb under my fingers like an amateur. "That's not how you make a fist." He commented, grabbing my hand. My skin burned from his touch. His long pale fingers worked to form a proper fist he approved of and I pretended to clip him in the jaw. My back had broken into a cold sweat, heat gathering at my neck and cheeks and he continued to finger my fist. I turned, muttering to him that I'd be right back. His eyes burned holes at the back of my head and I tried very hard to not let any sway into my hips. The movement, as I walked, felt wooden.

I relaxed a bit as I walked down the stairs but just then Lydia Martin came up to me. "Hey, Nora. Nice outfit. C'mon, I'll introduce you to all the hot guys on the lacrosse team. You don't need to thank me." She said, fingers hooked into my wrist. I was pulled along with her until I was next to the pool where Vee had been dancing.

A guy with a nametag that said HELLO MY NAME IS HENRY gave me a red plastic cup as Lydia paraded me into the group. I blushed and waved awkwardly. Attention moved on from me quickly enough and a guy named Anthony Amowitz went back to telling his story about being stranded with a flat tire. It ended with him telling everyone how his girlfriend had sex with him for the first time in excruciating detail.

I laid down my untouched drink, the liquid sloshing around, and moved from the group. I looked across the room to Lydia who forced Jackson's head to her neck, one eye on Scott and Allison who were slow-dancing, seemingly lost in each other's arms. I took out my phone from my pocket and started to call Vee, having her on speed dial, when thick hot fingers closed around my wrist and pulled.

My finger slipped from my phone's screen and hit end call. Derek Hale smiled down at me, being taller than me by a head. I stuttered, gasping for words, when suddenly Patch Cipriano crammed himself between us. Patch was his nickname because he was always having to be _patched up_ after the famous fights he always had at Bo's Arcade, a famously dangerous place Vee had always wanted to go to stalk Patch. He was a junior with black hair, deep set black eyes that take everything in and give nothing back. He had a rugged skin tone, like a Spaniard, with sharp Italian features and was six-foot-two. Patch was a dark-Levi's, dark-Henley, dark boots kind of guy who smells of spice, fresh cut grass and leather. The disgusting odour of tobacco and beer rolled into one came from his hot breath on my cheek as he asked, "Is this guy giving you trouble?"

I looked at Derek and then at Patch, whose real name was unknown. They were so similar it was scary. Derek was bulkier and Patch had more defined features, the dark eyes and skin tone was the only thing that would give away the fact that they weren't brothers to a stranger. Derek, still all smiles, just shook his head.

"I wasn't asking you, buddy." Patch jabbed a finger at Derek's wide chest. His smile fell as he bore his eyes down onto Patch. The back of his head blocked most of my sight but I could have sworn I saw Derek's eyes flash blue. And not that hazel, green or blue, kind of way. It looked like they flashed pale Munsell blue and back. A trick of the light, surely. Patch stepped away, his fell-defined back hitting my breasts and he staggered. I wasn't uncomfortable with the touch, it was no secret Patch Cipriano was gay. He took out a red marker from nowhere and drew seven digits into my palm. I curled my fist like Stiles taught me, thumb over fingers. Then tentatively looked down at the phone number. "Call me if anything... happens." He threw a look over his shoulder and patted my shoulder. Then he walked off, keeping his eyes trailed onto Derek's as he was lost in the sea of bodies.

"What the hell was that about...?" I asked no one and looked back at Derek. "Did you need something?" I was trying to play innocence in my favour. I had to remind myself I wasn't suppose to know who he was or what happened to his family. I was six at the time and my father was _not_ working on that case at the time.

"Hi." He said, stretching out his hand. "I'm Derek Hale." I shook his hand, one up and down pump, and the picture I took of that red triskele formed by the water hit the back of my mind. "Friend of Scott's." He explained. From behind me, Allison echoed what he just said.

"You're Scott's friend?"

"Yeah." He answered, smile still cut into his cheeks. His pearly whites were all in place and showing.

"Do you know where he went?" She asked, shoulder bumping mine softly as she stepped forward.

"Actually, he called me to ask if I could take you both home. He wasn't feeling well."

"No thanks." I replied automatically, thinking of Patch's reaction to him. I knew he was bad news.

"I'll go. I'm not really in the party mood anyway." Allison said. They both turned. I panicked. I looked around wildly for Vee. Rushing after them and telling myself, mentally, that she probably ditched me for whatever boy was interested in her I took the backseat in Derek's sleek black Camaro. I couldn't let Allison go home alone with this creep. "Changed your mind?" She asked from the passenger seat as she clipped on her seatbelt. I just ignored her.

The engine purred to life and we took off from Lydia's driveway. The car raced down the road and turned, he didn't even bother to ask where either one of us lived: which was downright unusual. When I asked Allison where she moved from Derek snapped his head towards her.

"You just moved?" He asked.

Allison nodded. "From San Francisco."

"How do you like Beacon Hills?" Derek asked. And then the light caught his face. Allison was gazing off outside the window. She didn't see it. But I did. The brief ring of golden light from the lamppost on the sidewalk glittered across his teeth and pale skin. But his eyes. They flashed that same blue colour when the light flickered over them. I saw it clearer, in more detail this time. I watched his light green eyes change into that pallid powdery blue colour. His eyes met mine from the interior rear view mirror. They were cold and hard, but green not blue.

I had read that changing eye colours could be a symptom of disease. When light hits the eye usually the pupil shrinks. I wasn't really focusing on his pupils I only saw the irises change colour. I was about to bring it up when Derek asked, "So, where do you live Allison?" She gave him directions and he pulled up at the U-shaped driveway out front of her rather spacious house.

"Well, thanks for the ride Derek. See you at school Nora." She gave a little wave as she closed the door behind her.

"Aren't you gonna hop in the front seat?" Derek asked, patiently waiting. His car was still humming.

"Nope, I'm good." I said and he pulled out of the driveway. The thought of being alone with him was beyond scary. I was worried for my safety, and not because of the way he drove which was surprisingly safe. I didn't even need my seatbelt. I had nine-one-one already dialled into my phone, thumb over the call button when he pulled up into my farmhouse. I sat in stunned silence. He unlocked the doors. I hadn't noticed he locked them.

"H-How did you know where I lived?"

"I overheard you talk to Stiles about a farmhouse. There's only one on the edge of the Preserve." He said, smoothly. That's funny. I didn't see Derek at the party at all but he _was_ there. Apparently right under my nose to have heard what I said to Stiles. But he was right there out front, like he was waiting for someone. Maybe he really was waiting for Allison because of Scott, but why would Scott need to call him if he was already at the party. More importantly, why was he even at a high school party? Wasn't he older than that?

"Well... You're home." Derek pressed, through a gritted toothy smile. I tried smiling back but the best I could do was a close-lipped waver of my lips. "Anyone ever told you you've got a killer, curvy mouth?" He asked, huskily. I opened my mouth to protest but his thick finger reached across the seats to rub against the corner of my mouth. Before I could pull back he reached back into his seat, finger at eye-level. He rubbed the shiny lip gloss between his finger and thumb. "You'd look better without it." He said. Then his eyes guttered over my bar stool legs and back to my eyes, taking his time up the length of my body. Was he hitting on me? "Cold, pale gray eyes." He continued. "Aristocrat nose... a few freckles you probably hate..." My hands went over my nose instinctively.

"How do you know that? It's too dark to see them." I scoffed. Those few freckles were genetic mutations that were easy to cover with concealer but I hadn't bothered lately. I was regretting not using it already. He chuckled. I reached to open the door but the seatbelt pinned me down.

"Need help with that?" He asked, big hands reaching over to unclip it. With a flash of my hand I was unclipped and slammed the door to his car behind me with unnecessary force. I stormed up to the porch. "Don't go out tonight." He warned, voice harsh. I spun around on my heel to demand what he meant, but his car was already down the road.

* * *

I closed the door behind me and called Vee's number. She answered on the third ring. "Where were you, Vee?"

"Sorry, babe, I got caught in major ex-girlfriend drama with the guy who took me home. Well, technically I drove but still."

"Those two guys you were dancing with..." I pressed.

"The tall dark haired one." She clarified. Because of Vee's height and weight, she didn't go for the skinny short guys. "His ex-girlfriend burst in on us making out on his coach. His parents were out of town but apparently she still had his key and was stalking him. I left when she started to throw things or it would have gone down." She drawled. Neither of us had been in a fight before but I was sure if it went down Vee would could her own.

I trotted down the stairs to make myself a midnight snack right before bed. Vee and I had been talking for almost half an hour. I took out all the ingredients from the fridge and put the phone on speaker. That's when my doorbell rung. I could see from the window a blue Jeep. When Vee asked I told her it was Stiles.

"Oooh! Could you leave me on speaker so I can hear every romantic word out of his mouth as you kiss?"

"No! I'll see you at school on Monday." I said before cutting her off. I knew what she was going to say. She was going to remind me of the pack of condoms we had found in my mom's room. Their expiration date was in five years. Why my mom needed a box of condoms I didn't know.

I went to open the door when something else grabbed my attention. A growl settled deep within me, within the marrow of my bones. That same similar growl sounded when I hit that... deer on Sunday. Only it wasn't a deer. In the back of my mind I knew it wasn't. But there was no word to describe what I saw. No logical explanation except for some mutated wolf. The only real label that made sense in my mind was ridiculous, absurd. It was the kind of thing that made me scared in my bed, pulling up the covers to my neck. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hall into my room. A hand coming out of my closet in the darkness. The jaw of an obscene creature snapping like a dog's at the end of a leash. Claws whooshing through the air to get a taste of blood. All of it went with fiery red glowing eyes.

Monster.

I wondered away from the front door, away from the excessive doorbell ringing. I entered the backyard and slipped through the white picket fence, the loose one in the middle. I tried to walk slowly but my nerve endings were on fire from mental pain. My footsteps were as quiet as humanly possible, soft leaves only rustling and not crunching.

I dashed behind a tree when a rolling human ball of flying limbs flipped down from a short hill. The bigger guy in the leather jacket threw the shorter, shirtless guy up against a tree. "What did you do with her?" One of them rasped with a lisp, panting.

The other bigger guy hushed the smaller guy. "Quiet." He ordered, hand pressed firmly against the smaller guy's naked chest. The look on his face was the same as Scott's when he saw Allison. It looked like he was listening, ears puckered. Derek didn't even notice me. "Great. They're already here. Run!" He left Scott, dashing away in the opposite direction. Scott's yellow eyes bobbed as he ran towards me. A flash bolted through the air and met the tree I was leaning against. The flash exploded with light and scattered tiny embers among the bark. I threw a hand over my mouth.

More lights emanated from the woods. As if under a dizzy spell, the world swam. I had seen the flashbolt itself burst, my vision corrupt. Something _thunked!_ into a tree to my right. Scott howled in pain. Grunting, he clawed at the arrow protruding from his arm. It took all I had to not squeak as I slumped further down into the roots of the tree, hand pressed tight over my mouth.

"Take him." A deep voice ordered from behind me. Scott was now standing, having arisen from his predatorily crouching. His hair was ruffled, but points stuck out of them. Ears?

The sound of a heavy body hitting the cold, hard ground filled the woods. He grunted and then another strangled cry came. This man hit a tree. I could hear everything just fine to place what was going on. A gun was cocked. Derek came back and snapped the arrow off Scott. He yelped but they ran away together, feet pounding the ground. I knew there was still one more man standing, his boots shuffling the earth but he didn't go after them. He didn't even go after me as I made a beeline back to my house.

I locked the door behind me. Stiles' Jeep was gone. I had one missed call from Vee and several from my mom. I called her and listened to her breath as I cried myself to sleep. For two days. Trying to figure out what the hell I saw. When I checked my phone's gallery the picture I had taken was not what I had seen. I had seen the bloodred triskele literally formed in the water but the picture I was gazing into was just water spiraling down the plug, tinged with just its natural transparent properties. My intuition told me it had something to do with Derek Hale but my head said I had just hallucinated it.

The week started over again, the endless cycle of school gnawing at me. Vee demanded all the juicy details from my supposed encounter with Stiles. I told her I didn't answer the door in time, that he left before I could call out. She didn't believe me. She thought we had S-E-X. If only I would be so lucky.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: SECOND CHANCE AT FIRST LINE

Vee and I had just left her house at around seven that week's Monday morning and she had driven to our place, Enzo's Bistro, to grab breakfast. I wrapped my hands around the cut china cup, rattling it slightly when my cold fingers touch the warm cup and lifted it from the saucer. I hardly remembered doing my morning routine: showering, getting dressed with a cardigan borrowed from Vee's closet and sweeping on some makeup.

"Don't look now," Vee said, wanting me to look "but Mr. Green Sweater over there keeps looking over here. I bet he's estimating your long legs through your jeans…" She gave me a voluptuous smile. "Oh! He just saluted me. A little two- finger military salute, how adorable."

I wasn't listening, well not really. What had happened last night was stuck in my head, replaying over and over like a broken cassette on loop. It practically chased away any chance of sleep. My thoughts were in tangles, much like my hair Vee reminded me and my eyes were still moist from all the crying I couldn't stop coming out of me, like a broken fire hydrant. Everything about me seemed broken, my thoughts, my look, my world. It was all breaking because, for once, I had found something that was unexplainable.

"Mr. Green Sweater looks like the average Joe, but his wingman looks hard core," said Vee. "Total bad boy, huh? Tell me he doesn't look like Dracula's spawn to you."

Lifting my eyes just enough so that I could get a look at him without appearing that I was, I took in his fine-boned, handsome face. Messy, wet blond hair hung at his shoulders. His eyes were the color of chrome, steely so. Casually unshaven. Flawlessly dressed in a tailored jacket over his green sweater and dark designer jeans. I said, "You're imagining things."

"Did you miss his widow's peak. That lanky build. Best of all, the deep- set eyes? He might even be tall enough for me."

Vee is closing in on six feet tall, but she has a thing for heels. High heels. She also has a thing about not dating shorter guys.

"Okay, what's wrong?" Vee asked. "You've gone all incommunicado."

I was going to tell Vee the truth about what happened. Soon. I just needed a little time to sort out the details. The problem was, I didn't see how I could. I knew that I definitely wouldn't believe her if she told me anything so crazy. Vee was willing to believe anything, even a sugar pill. But that wasn't the case. Since I was a no nonsense kind of girl, how would she take it? Thinking back, I remembered only the heavy sound of an arrow hitting bark and the howl of Scott McCall and that wouldn't be enough to satisfy Vee. Besides, if she knew what I told her... I couldn't even imagine what she would do.

"Check _him_ out," said Vee. "Mr. Green Sweater is getting out of his chair. Now that's a body for you to hit regularly, babe. He's coming over, big smile Nora."

A half beat later we were greeted with a low, pleasant "Hello." Vee and I looked up. Mr. Green Sweater stood just back from our table, his thumbs hooked shyly in the pockets of his jeans. He was blue -eyed, with stylishly shaggy blond hair swept across his forehead in oddly feminine choppy bangs.

"Hello yourself," Vee said. "I'm Vee. This is Nora Grey."

I frowned at Vee. I did not appreciate her tagging on my last name, feeling that it violated some sort of unspoken contract between girls, let alone best friends. I gave a half-hearted wave and brought my cup to my lips, immediately scalding my tongue. I didn't want to seem too eager, so it was lucky that I wasn't. At all.

He dragged a chair over from the next table, the sound sending cold shivers up my spine and sat backward on it, his arms resting where his back should have been. Holding a hand out to me, he said, "I'm Elliot Saunders." Feeling way too formal, I shook it. His hands were cool, firm. "And this is Jules," he added, jerking his chin toward his friend, whom Vee had grossly underestimated by calling "tall." He let go of my hand when Jules lowered himself into a seat beside Vee, dwarfing the chair as he slouched.

Vee said to him, "I think you might be the tallest guy I've ever seen. Seriously, how tall are you?"

"Six foot ten," Jules muttered, slumping in his seat even further and childishly crossing his arms.

Elliot cleared his throat. "Can I get you ladies something to eat?" He asked, to divert some of the attention back to him.

"I'm fine," I said, raising my cup. "I already ordered." I wasn't hungry enough to have anything other than warm milk. I had been sick from remembering the sound of that arrow piercing flesh...

Vee kicked me under the table. "She'll have a vanilla -cream -filled doughnut. Make it two."

"So much for the diet, huh?" I asked Vee as Elliot walked to the front of the counter.

"Huh yourself. The vanilla bean is a fruit. A brown fruit."

"It's a legume."

"Are you sure about that, Nora?"

I wasn't. Jules closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose like a parent might. Apparently he was as thrilled to be here with us as I was to have them here. But I was definitely getting very mixed signals from him.

Elliot, however, as I looked over at him was the overtly friendly type and was definitely in high school, but I hadn't seen him at BHHS before. I would remember. He had this charmingly, outgoing type of personality that didn't fade into the background. Like me. If I wasn't feeling so shaken, I might have actually taken an interest. In friendship and maybe more. But as things were I doubted the latter.

"Do you live around here?" Vee asked Jules.

"Mmm."

"Go to school?" She pressed, pursing her lips.

"Kinghorn Prep." There was a tinge of superiority in the way he said it that didn't go unnoticed by Vee.

"Never heard of it." Vee replied, to get a good reaction from him.

"Private school. We start at nine." He lifted his sleeve and glanced at his watch.

Vee dipped a finger in the froth of her milk and licked it off, passing off as just-not-slutty and more seductive. "Is it expensive?"

Jules looked at her directly for the first time. His eyes stretched, showing a little white around the edges.

"Are you rich? I bet you are," she said, peeking her tongue out to the corner of her mouth. Her eyebrows tipped up, waiting for an answer.

Jules eyed Vee like she'd just killed a fly on his forehead. He scraped his chair back, distancing himself from us. _Rude_, Vee mouthed.

Elliot returned with a box of a half -dozen doughnuts.

"Two vanilla creams for the ladies," he said, pushing the box toward me, "and four glazed for me. Guess I'd better fill up now, since I don't know what the cafeteria is like at Beacon High."

Vee nearly spewed her milk. "You go to BHHS?"

"As of today. I just transferred from Kinghorn Prep."

"Nora and I go to BHHS," Vee said. "I hope you appreciate your good fortune. Anything you need to know—including who you should invite to the winter formal—just ask. Nora and I don't have dates … yet." She babbled.

Nope, she had gone way too far. I decided it was time go.. Jules was too irritated to take interest, and being in his company wasn't helping _my_ mood. I made a big deal of looking at the clock on the wall behind me and said, "We better get to school, Vee. We have a chem test to study for. Elliot and Jules, it was nice meeting you."

"Our chem test isn't until Friday," said Vee.

On the inside, I cringed. On the outside, I smiled through my teeth. "Right. I meant we have an English test. The works of… Edgar Allen Poe." Everyone knew I was lying, I didn't care.

I just didn't want to sit here any longer. I wanted to move forward, distancing myself from the vague memory of last night. But the quicker I forgot what happened, the sooner my life would go back to the way it had been.

"I hope you have a good first day, and maybe we'll see you at lunch," I told Elliot. Then I dragged Vee up by her elbow and steered her out the door.

"That was rude. What do you have against totally hot guys?" Vee asked.

"Nothing, I guess. It's strangers I don't like."

"Well he won't be a stranger as of today." She said back, winking and unlocking her car door. Guess not.

* * *

Vee and I sat in the stands of the lacrosse field. Coach Finstock, also out economics teacher, yelled at Jackson to grab a longstick. Vee wolf-whistled as he jogged past and he tilted one eyebrow. Vee flashed him a dizzying smile. The corners of his lips tilted up.

"You know he has a girlfriend right?" She nodded. "Who also happens to be Lydia Martin?" She blinked. "Right?" I pressed. Vee was outrageous if she thought she could take on Lydia for Jackson.

"What? He's not cheating on her. Yet." She added promiscuously. Jackson stood in front of the goalie, Danny, and slammed into a player as he tried to score. He ran around the second guy, blocking his try with minimal effort and was applauded by the Coach. Greenberg, a social pariah and current target of Coach Finstock, was forced to do laps as he failed to get passed Jackson.

Jackson Whittemore was a fascination to every girl at Beacon Hills High, even Marcie Millar. I didn't find him all that spectacular, he was good at what he did, athletic, polite, had manners and even good looks. Maybe that was it. He was too good looking.

My eyes instantly drifted to Stiles, waiting calmly in the line and watching as his best friend was ploughed to the ground by a rampaging Jackson. Harvey weaved her way through the people in the stands until she sat next to me, giving a soft smile. I smiled back.

Scott jogged to the front of the line, his try being announced again by Coach Finstock. When he whistled Scott dashed forward. Harvey grimaced, clutching my shoulder, as Scott violently squelched into the soft tissue of Jackson's stomach with his shoulder. Scott's stick cracked against his shoulder as he was lifted up and off the ground, into the air, and back to the ground flat on his back. Vee gasped. Instantaneously, Scott fell to his knees.

Vee caught my eye as I ran down the stands. She thought I was going to see Jackson, like every other member of the team, but instead I followed Stiles who clung to Scott's shoulders like a blanket. On my black ballet flats, my feet made little noise as I crossed the field. A figure stood in the distance.

He was full of contrasts. His widely spread legs were clad in tight black jeans, shoes partly hidden by the small springs of wheat-coloured grass. A loose white t-shirt clung to his frame, covered by a black leather jacket. His dark hair was just like I had last seen it, velvety soft but pitch black and stark against his pale cleanly shaven skin.

"Derek Hale?" His worrisome mask broke, eyebrows loosening from their hook together and eyes unclouding to meet my gaze. I didn't smile, my face felt taut. My legs trembled slightly as I slowly inched towards him, like a hunter would towards a wounded animal to gut it.

"Nora Grey." He responded, shoulders squaring and hands widening in his pockets to further reveal his frame, jacket pulling away from his sides. "What?" He growled, voice suddenly snapping.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. I wasn't entirely comfortable around him enough to ask questions, but his mere presence made my skin tingle. And if I wasn't feeling safe my counsellor, Ms. Morrell, would surely have something to say about him.

"It's none of your business." He said, calmly, collectively, coolly. Actually, it was my business. He couldn't just parade around school grounds because he felt like it. Especially if he had been questioned by the Sheriff over the dead girl. Laura, his sister.

"Excuse me?" I scoffed. Of course it was my business, he looked damn right voyeuristic standing there against the background like he was supposed to stand out. A little like Elliot this morning.

"Nora." He repeated, a slow, lazy smile spreading over his face. Something in my stomach flipped, coiling. Desire, deep and hot and heavy in the pit of my stomach. Like a boiling stone that flipped at the sight of him. Literally. He stepped closer, thumb threading the line of his lips until it reached the corner, where his pale pink tongue flicked out to lick it. "Why don't you," He continued, stepping into my personal space, sugary breath blowing over my face. "Just run along and do what you were doing before you saw me?"

His green eyes were the kind of pretty that were hard to look away from. Somehow I managed. But his hand reached out to touch the side of my face. I felt the wetness at the tip of his thumb as he stroked my ear, tenderly scratching over the shell back and forth.

"I would say the same to you," I said, slapping his hand away and taking a safe, measured step back. "But you weren't running, you were watching. Watching the lacrosse practice." I said, stealing a glance behind my shoulder. My heart pounded faster and faster, like the wings of a hummingbird picking up speed through the air. I wasn't safe with him around, I knew it. Although his breath was nice his actual scent was dark and spicy, like the colour of his hair.

Coach was still fussing over Jackson's crumpled form on the ground. Most of the players had dissipated, making room for a medic that had just got in. An ambulance truck right behind them. I smiled inwardly at the comfort that brought. But then a dark thought crossed my mind: _the truck would take you to a hospital if he hurt you, not stop him from actually hurting you._

A burst of confidence flooded my system. Uncharacteristically, I turned the angle of my body towards his, fully. "Watching Scott." I said, pride ballooning in my chest as I watched his reaction. Emotion, raw and real, flickered across his features. For a split second, as split as it was, fear dampened his forehead, dimmed his eyes and frowned his magnetic lips.

Then he laughed. It was an unpleasant sound. A laugh that said _ha ha the joke's on you_, not _ha ha I'm laughing with you_. As unpleasant as it was it rang across the field, echoing resoundingly. He hollowed his cheeks but puffed out his chest. He looked like those colourful birds that made sure their bright chests were displayed to attract a mate. I wasn't so sure what he was doing with his sinful mouth, but he was keeping eye contact to show confidence and making himself look bigger – towering over me, infact – by using his expansive chest.

"What makes you think I wasn't watching you?"

I barely had time to falter in my words, as they died on my tongue, before Marcie Millar hopped over. This was a rare occurrence: she wasn't flanked by her entourage. A toxically sweet smile washed over her face, like salt wears down a snail. Derek didn't smile back, he still held the one he wore for me but turned his face to look at Marcie.

"Hi, Tall Dark and Handsome." She called. "What're you doing talking to Nora?"

I shot her a look that didn't go unnoticed by Derek.

"Are you two friends?" He asked. His hand flopped between Marcie and me. I hadn't even noticed that he had taken his hands out from out of his pockets. When had he? Why hadn't I been looking at his hands instead of his lips? He could have been carrying a concealed weapon.

"Oh, no." Marcie jeered. "Her only friends are over there." She pointed to where Harvey sat with Vee still where she was before I left. The space between them was deafening. "She's the glue that holds Supersize and Freakshow together." She said, beaming at him again. He remained unfazed by her. At last, a man who was uncharted by Marcie. I recalled a time where she called Vee supersize and Vee called her freakshow back, like they often had, but was Harvey's popularity being tarnished because she hung out with us occasionally – not even frequently?

I suddenly hated Marcie and feared for her. I hated her for one simple reason: she had pointed out my friends to a man I didn't trust at all. And I feared for her for two reasons: I feared for her what she was getting herself into and I feared for her what I was going to do to her once Derek was dealt with.

"She's so beautiful I would've pegged her for a cheerleader." He said, dazzlingly shocking Marcie. His calloused hand reached out again, but not to stroke my face. His thick fingers caressed a lock of curly hair that had fallen from behind my ear. He curled it around his finger before letting it bounce free. Air flew out from my lungs.

"A cheerleader!" Marcie laughed bitterly, too loudly but still annoyingly too sweetly. "Please. I'm the cheerleader here." She announced.

"Where's your uniform?" Derek asked, eyes half lidded. His boot scraped against the grass making me look down. As I did he closed the distance between us and tipped my chin up to meet his leafy green eyes. His hips were almost touching mine. He pressed his warm cheek against my blushing one and turned our heads together to watch Marcie stumble over herself for words. "That's what I thought." He said glumly. He turned to leave but half-turned around mid-step and called out, "See you around, Angel."

Marcie and I watched him leave. His wickedly tight jeans left little to the imagination. I startled, wondering where that thought had come from. But then I realized, by the shape of Marcie's lips that she had said it, not my mind. Phew.

As she turned to leave too, something close to respect written all over her face, I grabbed her wrist. "You finally got a boyfriend, and he's hot. Congrats Grey." She said, albeit acrimoniously.

"No, no, no! He's not my boyfriend. Marcie listen, he's bad news. Stay away from him, any way you can. Please Marcie, this is no joke." I said. I was inadvertently aware of Vee's intense stare at the two of us through Marcie's eyes. "Marcie!" Was she such an airhead that she couldn't see how dangerous it was to flirt with absolute strangers?

"Afraid of a little competition?" She said, even though Derek had made her look like a fool. She left me standing there, watching the lacrosse players file into the locker rooms where Scott and Stiles left shortly after the ambulance was already loaded with Jackson. I think I saw Lydia climbing in the back with him.

"Well that was sure something." Vee said.

"Yeah. Who knew Scott had it in him." I replied.

"When were you going to tell me about Derek?" She asked, confined hurt in her eyes.

"What about him?" I drawled out the dumb act for as long as I could. I wasn't actually aware she was looking at us when Derek was there, but she definitely had eyes for whenever Marcie and I traded insults.

"Babe, don't play dumb. I just saw you, and him, all..." She wrinkled her nose, as if the idea was merely revolting. "Intimate."

"First you want me to be less like a prude, now you don't want me around any guy at all?" I checked off the two points on my fingers.

"You can be around any guy. Just not Derek Hale. Not after what we found. Besides, he's like a billion years older than us."

"Only a few." I corrected, quoting Stiles, from when Vee and I had followed them into the Preserve. She rolled her eyes at me. I didn't have to look to know it, I could practically hear it.

"Whatever, just be careful, okay?"

* * *

We were sitting, eating lunch. It was just the two of us at the table. The other end was full of band geeks or something. I didn't care. I speared my peas and mashed my mashed potatoes, staring at the sausage on my plate. Vee snapped her fingers directly in my line of vision. I raised my head from my plate to look at her.

"Hello? Elliot's over there."

"Who?"

"Elliot Saunders." She said, slowly. "Mr. Green Sweater. The guy we met this morning." How did she know his surname? Had he told us?

"Oh, yeah. Okay, wave him here." I said, casually. Vee raised her eyebrows, disappearing behind her hairline.

"What?"

"Not even a touch to your hair, lips or blouse?" She asked, critically.

"No." I said, simply. I wasn't really interested in him. In that way. Actually, I wasn't really interested in him. Period. But to be nice I put on a smile as he slipped into the seat next to Vee.

"Hey." She said.

"Hi." He said to Vee. Turning to me he said, "Hi."

I smiled as I put a forkful of mashed peas and potatoes in my mouth. "Hi," I said, mouth gargled in food.

"So Elliot, how are you liking BHHS?" Vee asked cordially.

"It's okay. It's no Kinghorn Prep but it'll do."

"Why'd you transfer again?"

"Parents couldn't afford the tuition anymore." He explained, scraping up a scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth and chewing bashfully before adding, "So we moved to Beacon and... yeah."

"Cool." Vee said. I gave her a meaningful kick under the table. Cool? Who said "cool" anymore.

"What's got you so down Nora?" He asked.

"She thinks this guy is stalking her." Vee explained, overtly chatting.

"Oh really? Who?

"Just this guy." I said. I didn't want Elliot knowing about Derek Hale. He would make the connection to the fire that happened and my dad. Although, if I didn't know my dad worked with Derek's sister on their house's arson case why would he?

"Derek Hale." Vee added.

"_The _Derek Hale?" Elliot asked, eyes as round as saucers and still growing. Just the reaction I didn't want. I tried to brush it off but he wasn't having it. "You should talk to the police, file a restraining order. I heard he used to be a student here actually. Shouldn't that mean he has a student file?"

Something was out of order. Sure we had one less seat open at our table but that wasn't it. It was the person occupying the seat. Elliot had been here, what, a day? How did he already know all about Derek Hale? Had he seen us together and did his homework on him? He was pushing for something, definitely. In a book I read about snakes in suits it talked about how psychopaths would plant suggestions in your mind and use them to their advantage because they were your weakness. It didn't mean you were weak-willed it just meant you couldn't protect your mind from intrusive and manipulative people. Elliot may have not been a psychopath, it could've just been paranoia biting at me. But suddenly, I got all hot and bothered. And not the good kind.

I shovelled down the rest of my food, wolfing down the sausage and poking myself in the throat forcing down the mashed potatoes. I had French next. I knew I could slip away to the classroom without any eyebrows raised, I was an A-grade student, Vee knew how often I entered the class first and brought out the textbook foremost.

"Excuse me." I said, gathering up my bag and strapping it to my shoulder, "But I've got French next and you know me, I better scoot and skedaddle." I left the cafeteria, feeling holes burning in the back of my head (Vee's or Elliot's I had no way of knowing). The classroom was unlocked so I entered it and sat down in the first row with my French textbook out, removed from my locker on my swift way here.

Ms. Morrell walked inside after about ten minutes. "Nora. What are you doing here so early?" She asked. Ms. Morrell wasn't a woman of greetings. She was more like the female equivalent of the strong and silent type, which meant she was smart and serene.

"Never like to be late." I mumbled around the pen in my mouth.

"Likewise." She said. She always pronounced each syllable of each word very carefully, like fragile glass that could shatter and pierce her throat at any mispronounced word falling from her lips. Ms. Morrell was a caramel skinned young woman, who regularly taught French as well as her counselling job. She had hair, black and glossy, that was as straight as an arrow and as fine as cornsilk. Her boots clapped against the floor as she moved to write in chalk on the board.

Abruptly she turned. "You haven't been coming to our sessions as of late. Is there some sort of problem?"

I shut the book. "Actually yes." I said, feeling confrontational. "We've been dealing with the same issue that happened over ten years ago. My father is long gone and I've accepted that the second year under your counselling. I don't know why you insist on making me come to your sessions. I'm fine." I said. "Are you?"

She didn't let the shock cross over her. She mauled it under her teeth and let it go slipping out of her clenched fist behind her. I could see it shaky because of her waspy waistline.

"Yes I am. But I do not think you are. So until we've sorted out your..." She inched closer so I could smell her perfume. "_Issues,_ you will have to keep seeing me." Her palms were flat on the sides of my desk, rattling the wood a little. "Capuche?" I nodded. "Good." She said and turned back to scratch the board with the little piece of chalk she held, powdering her fingers, completely calm all of a sudden.

"Class is about to start." She announced. Begrudgingly, I reached into my bag, never leaving her petite form. My fingers clasped over a smooth leathery pouch. It felt like a pouch. A thin string held its light contents together. As I pulled it out the small brown leathered pouch tipped over. A clap ahead of me told me Ms. Morrell had turned around. Fine purple powder spilled out from the worn-out edge of the leather pouch. My fingertips caught some of the powder. I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger for a while, the purple fading as my skin absorbed it.

"Might want to be careful with that." She said, turning back. "It could be poisonous."

"What?" I squeaked and dropped the pouch.

"For some." She added. "For others it's completely harmless. You have my permission to go to the restroom. But make sure all that powder is gone by the time I turn my back to begin the lesson."

I scooped the powder back into the bag, scattering the rest by blowing on it, and pulled the string to clench it together. In the restroom I washed my hands and left the pouch on the sink whilst I did. The tardy bell rang and I cursed under my breath. I stared at the pouch before deciding to take it with me, its ribbony string dangling from my fingers.

As I entered class and took my seat I dropped the pouch in my bag and forgot about it. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. Vee rode my home, talking about Elliot and Derek and Stiles all the way home. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen much of Stiles today. Tomorrow, I promised myself.

At home there was a message on the answering machine from my mom. She said she'd be home by next week. She promised me she would call tomorrow because today "just didn't do". I called Vee before bed, did all my homework and then dreamt a dreamless sleep. Until I woke up, the pouch of purple powder in my hand.

I Googled "purple powder" fifteen minutes later after rebooting my old and gone computer. Purple-K came up, also known as PKP. It was used in some fire extinguishers because it was a fire suppressor. Shoving the pouch in the drawer of my desk I went back to sleep thinking about triskele tattoos, pointed ears and howling. In the midst of it all, the purple powder was spilled onto Scott by Ms. Morrell. He writhed under the sprinkled powder and Stiles sighed, dropping a fire extinguisher.

* * *

The first thing I did the next morning was pop some iron pills. It was in French the next day that I noticed something about Ms. Morrell as Allison walked into class a few minutes late. She was a very mysterious person. All I knew about her was that she was a French Canadian woman with a master's degree in behavioural psychology and over three hundred hours of field work, more hours than any psychologist I had ever known.

Allison, hesitantly, took the seat beside me.

"Hi," I whispered.

"Hey." She whispered back, opening her notebook. "I heard you were going to publish something on the eZine about me?" She said with an eyebrow raised.

"Were. Past tense."

"I know. Instead you wrote about the dead girl found in the woods by those two joggers." She shivered.

"We don't usually write things like that." I explained, feeling the need to defend myself and Vee. "But it doesn't happen much in Beacon Hills."

"Yeah, that much is clear." She said. That was the extent of our conversation. When class finished all she did was wave goodbye. In the hall Lydia was introducing her to this lacrosse player. I saw Scott jealously looking over, talking with Stiles.

I waited by my locker until they split. I ran past Scott to talk to Stiles. As he passed me I heard a sizzling. Followed by a half-gasping noise of pain. Scott pulled away his hand as if he had been burnt, a wisp of smoke travelling up from his knuckles. It was barely noticeable, like the flickering of heat waves. But you could see it written across his angry red skin.

I looked down. At my pocket. The pouch was peeking up, the powder squashed up to the brim so some was leaking out. Scott glared at me, stepping away all the way to Allison. I walked backwards to watch him, shoving the pouch further down into my pocket. It had burnt him. Hurt him. I whizzed around and met Patch, standing by his locker with his ankles crossed and arms over his chest.

His eyes bore into mine. I stole a last glance at Scott before tapping Stiles on the shoulder. I had put the pouch in my drawer last night. How did it end up in the pocket of my jeans? I didn't keep my jeans in my drawer but the way Patch looked at me, not even quizzical at all, made me think he knew something I didn't.

I had the sinking sensation I was missing a valid piece of the puzzle. I hated not knowing. "Hi." I said to Stiles, half-smiling.

"Hi." He said dismissively back. "I gotta go do something." He said curtly.

"I'll come with." I said.

"No! No. You can't. It's, um, about my dad. It's best you don't come because he's a cop. I don't want him to know you know all you do because of me. I'd get in trouble." He spat out, not taking a single breath.

"So it's about the dead girl?" It wasn't a question, more like a fact that needed confirming.

"Yeah."

"Aren't the police department looking for the wild animal that did it?"

"Yeah." He repeated, but upon looking at my face added, "But I think they're not looking for the right person." He sighed.

"You think it was a person that cut her in half?"

"No! Um, er, maybe. Look I gotta go." He said and shouldered past the noisy crowd of people lurking still in the hall. I ran a hand through my hair, my gaze drifting from Allison and Scott, talking intently, to Vee waving and approaching me and finally landing on Patch talking to Harvey. Harvey!

A million emotions tugged at my heart, playing their songs on its strings.

I didn't trust Patch. Not really. I trusted him more than Derek Hale, sure, but I didn't trust him with Vee let alone Harvey. Harvey was an innocent. She was clueless. I was clueless too. But I knew some stuff. I knew Patch knew something about Derek. Something that told him Derek was dangerous, warning me away from him. Derek was evidently stalking Scott whom was friends with the Sheriff's son, Stiles who I liked. Each of them had something to do with the dead girl. Patch by associating with Derek and Derek by being a suspect of Stiles'. Now that I thought about it I thought he might've killed her too. From what I saw the night of the full moon, he was more human than animal but... something was off. I had convinced myself I was dreaming. Never could I have possibly seen what I saw. But I was starting to rethink everything.

I had saved Patch's number into my phone from the night he printed it on my hand, not trusting Derek alone with me. I had made a mental note to text him something later on as Vee approached me. She followed my line of vision and frowned.

"Everyone's getting boys except me." She pouted.

"Patch is gay." I said, which seemed to cheer her up a bit.

"You're right! So what's he doing with Harvey?" She asked, more to herself than me.

"Allison!" Scott called out.

"I can't—really have to go." She said back, clip-clopping away, holding a jacket folded over her arm. A jacket that was strangely, vaguely familiar. A dark blazer, not jacket, that hung suspended by a very small branch of a tree that night in the woods with Derek, Scott and a few other guys with weapons. What did Allison have to do with it? Gang wars?

Vee whistled. "Trouble in paradise." She said, earning a look from Scott. He breathed in through his nose and out of his mouth, angry heat rolling off his body in waves. "Whoa." She said. I looked over at Patch, standing solitarily now with no traces of Harvey in sight. His eyes hadn't left me.

"Okay." Vee said, walking away. "We need to make a plan." She said.

"A plan?"

"On Stiles. Elliot. And Derek." She said. "Stiles, a definite yes."

"Actually, he kinda just blew me off." I said.

"Why?"  
"Something to do with his dad."

"Well he and Scott are inseparable." Like us, I thought to myself. "To get to one you go to the other, right?" She waggled her brows.

"Oh no." I said. "No one's seducing Scott McCall he's dating Allison, the new girl. Or did you forget?"

"Urgh, fine. What about Elliot."

"Pass."

"Really? He's so hot." She whined.

"If you like his friend, Jules, then why don't you get to him to get to Jules." I said, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Good idea." She said, purposely misinterpreting what I was saying. The thought of Vee seducing Elliot to get to Jules was just plain wrong. Considering Jules hadn't been interested at all made it sound even worse. Like she was batting at a dead fly. A dead fly called Jules.

"And Derek?" She asked. "If you want to go out with Stiles, and there are two obstacles get rid of them both."

"If you're taking care of Elliot and Derek's left how do I get rid of Derek?" I asked.

"Make it clear to him you're not interested." She said, the "duh" evident in her tone. I had a feeling I knew who would help me do that. He was about six feet, dark hair and dark eyes and was staring at me. Still

* * *

Later that day, after saying goodbye to Dorothea early at seven I called Patch. It rung three times before he picked up. "Hello?"

"Patch. It's Nora." I said.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need your help. I need to make it perfectly clear to Derek Hale I'm not interested in him. This up your alley?" I asked. It was shocking how comfortable it was to talk to him. We hadn't known each other all that well before but it was like I was talking to Vee. Maybe it was because he was gay.

"I'll be at yours in fifteen minutes." He said and hung up. I contemplated calling Vee to tell her about what I was about to do and ask her to come but instead I texted it to her, thanking her for the plan. When she texted back I didn't unlock the screen. Instead I switched off my phone and waited for Patch. I think I knew what he had in mind. I didn't want a fight to go down so the logical thing to think was that he was going to drive me over to his house to call him out and demand he was to never see me again.

I was practicing in the mirror what I was going to say, making sure my body language and expressions were in check so he didn't get the wrong idea, when Patch (presumably) honked his horn. From the coat rack I picked up a relatively thick black fleece and flung it around my shoulders. I was going with no makeup, actually just the dried makeup from this morning, to make sure he thought I wasn't dressing up for him. Making sure I wasn't presentable for him.

I locked the door behind me, rattling it twice to make sure it was closed, and took off down the steps of the farmhouse. Vee had planted this idea in my head, this plan, to clear up all the men in my life. They had all rushed in so fast that I was dizzy from the attention. But Stiles was the one I wanted. Stiles.

Derek Hale, quite frankly, was creepy. He was so much older than me too. But the age difference, whatever it was, didn't put me off so much. He looked young enough, when I turned eighteen we'd look like a perfectly normal, legal couple. Not that I wanted us to be!

"I'm coming!" I shouted idiotically. He couldn't hear me from my house, that much was obvious. I grabbed my keys from the kitchen table when I saw Patch, through the window, jog up to the porch and ring the doorbell. He wore dark jeans, like Derek had, shin-high boots, and a thermal T-shirt. I opened the door. He didn't return my grin. He wasn't as happy to see me. The way he saw it, he would later tell me, he was my muscle in case things got rough.

His black Jeep Commander was parked right at the end of the street at the curb. "New car?" I asked after I opened the door.

He gave me a nice, but mysterious smile. "I won it a couple nights ago off a game of pool."

"Someone bet their _car_?"

"He wasn't happy about it. I'm trying to keep clear of dark alleys for the next little while." He smiled. "Figured Danny would like it."

"Trying to impress him?"

"I don't need to. He's plenty impressed." He said, starting the engine.

"With what?"

He spread his legs a little wider from their already-very-wide position meaningfully. I frowned, confused. He rolled his eyes and dropped a hand to the waistband of his pants, where his boxers peeked out from his dark jeans.

"Oh. Oh! Patch!" I punched his arm, not hard but playfully. He laughed the whole ride there.

* * *

Patch drove through the woods recklessly.

He parked behind a familiar blue Jeep. Stiles' Jeep. Shock consumed my face. "What? Nora, what is it?"

"That's Stiles' Jeep. Why would he be here?"

My hand reached for the door, Patch pulled my shoulder awkwardly against his chest. The position made us both slither down in our seats. "Hey!" I hissed, not loud enough to be heard, apparently.

"They've over there. Scott _and _Stiles. And shovels." He said, raising an eyebrow. It was dark enough to know that to be digging at this hour you'd have to be pretty consummated in that... art. Unless they had lights. But was Derek away? If so, I wanted to just leave. Defeat piled up over me, weighing like a ton of bricks heavily onto my shoulders, neck and most of all mind.

"Can you see what they're doing?"

"Digging." Patch answered, sharper but dryly. He gave me a look when I tried to wiggle away. "They might've have heard the Jeep coming. If not, we have an advantage."

"Binoculars?" I asked acerbically.

"The element of surprise. Now hush, and see if you can get a closer look without making any noise." He ordered. He unlocked the door and slipped out over the extended shadows that devoured the Jeep. I followed his lead, not daring to shut the door. I left it leaning, looking like it was closed, and shuffled towards Patch.

In that moment I realised just how much he and Vee were alike. I hid behind a tree horizontal to Patch's. I was closer to the boys than he was. Still, shadows provided our camouflage. I pressed down onto my belly so I could watch them safely without stealing glances like Patch.

I have to admit, for the time we watched waiting for something to happen, I liked seeing Stiles all muddy and sweaty and working. He was no manly man, I wasn't hallucinating that Stiles was a hunk or anything. But it was still pleasant watching his well-defined back through his plaid shirt as he scooped up dirt continuously with Scott, whom I frequently forgot was there. If Vee were here she would be having a fit just watching the two of them. I thought about taping it for her, business (eZine) before pleasure however, but the flash from my phone would alert them of our presence. I looked over at Patch picking dirt from his fingernails. He waved, not looking up from his task.

It was cold enough that when our breath hit the air a puffy white cloud floated away. Patch, as well as I, tried to conceal this by breathing through our noses. But after about ten minutes, in which I wanted to go home afraid Derek might catch all four of us, Stiles stuck out a hand to smack Scott's chest. They froze. Stiles, with his shovel still buried, fidgeted around to plunge it over the same spot again. He tossed it to the side. I watched it bounce, vibrate and drop as Stiles dropped to his knees. Scott went under too.

Patch and I exchanged momentous looks. The hole they had dug was deep enough that the only thing we could really make out, from our angle no less, was the tip of their heads and occasionally a shoulder or two. Scott's wavy-haired head bobbed but I couldn't see Stiles' anymore. Then they were both gone for seven breath-holding seconds of suspense.

They screamed. Scott's scream was muffled by Stiles' jagged, on-going yodel of horror. Scott bounced back out of the hole onto his hands and knees, like all fours. Stiles flailed onto his butt with his long legs trailing after him. When they finally stopped, Stiles yelled, "What the hell is that?" loud enough for the whole woods to hear.

Scott hesitantly said back, equally loud, "That's a wolf."

"Yeah, I can see that!"

Patch motioned with his finger to be silent, pressing it to his lips.

He inched closer, cresting the tree and crouching closer and lower and closer and lower and closer and lower... until his nose was inched apart from the soil but he was about three meters away from the boys. The two started tracking dirt into the pit. Stiles head snapped up, eyes slitting angrily into focus. I froze. He could see me.

I flinched back into the shadows, cursing myself for having followed Patch noisily. When Scott mouthed something, Stiles answered by inanimately raising his hand towards me. They traded more words, caught in their own little bubbly world, before Stiles wiped his hands on his pants and trudged forward. I held my breath when he stopped.

Not in front of me.

Not in front of Patch.

In front a purple flower. The shade of purple was familiar.

He took it carelessly into his hands, scooping it up. The spiderwebbed roots clawed up towards his cupped hands. He lifted it to eye level, the bloomed flower drooping lazily into his chest with its lolling faded-green stem folded by his hands. A solid black line formed over the ground, pure in my line of sight against his shirt. I watched as he hauled the rope into his hands in lengthy loops, the sinewy muscles in his forearms noticeable due to his rolled up sleeves.

As he pulled the rope into loops in his hands the length of the thick rope unravelled endlessly. The material uselessly fought against the earth as it was forced to break open the surface to crawl through the messy soil.

When Stiles reached Scott he circled him. Scott twisted so that he could watch, but not help, Stiles unravel the rope and leave thick lines drawn in the dirt. For a moment, Patch's eyes glowed. I hadn't realised I was next to him until our elbows touched. I looked over to him.

He just pointed back. I startled. Burgundy red flashed in the dirt, forming an extensive spiral where Stiles was drawing up the rope in the second line of the spiral, before it was gone entirely. I was sure I hadn't imagined it. The light had reflected from Patch's eyes too. Why didn't Scott or Stiles see it?

Stiles reached his checkpoint again (Scott) and curled the rope into his arms wordlessly. Scott looked down in confusion. His mouth made a little _o_ of horror before he rose, with poise, from his crouch.

"Stiles." He whispered. Now that I was closer I could hear the dialogue between the two clearly. Stiles dropped the purple flower from his chest to his side with his arm, hand still curled around it protectively. He went around the pit, around the spiral, to stand beside Scott and peer into the hole. He startled, taking a step back and reaching for Scott's shoulder exclaiming only, "Oh!"

Unfortunately, I still couldn't see inside the pit. I had to settle for watching their reactions. Approximately thirty seconds of looking at Stiles and Scott staring into the pit, mortified, Patch took my elbow and raced along the woods into the Jeep. He started it up, silently, and reversed back. Few crackles and crunches were heard, so we were safe. Not long when we had pulled in. Surprisingly, we could make a more silent escape than entrance.

Patch took me home. Nothing, no words at all, were shared between us. We each took in the silence and thought our private thoughts to ourselves. I thanked him before I got out of his Jeep and re-entered the farmhouse.

* * *

The next day, all I heard were rumours about Derek Hale and his arrest. Derek Hale committed murder, he killed that girl in the woods. Derek Hale committed theft, he stole my X-Box. Derek Hale committed larceny, he sold my X-Box. Derek Hale committed abduction, he kidnapped my neighbour's neighbour's dog, Prada. Derek Hale committed rape, arson, prostitution, blah blah blah.

Nobody knew the truth. Patch and I had witnessed something. Something too coincidental to label it coincidence. Stiles and Scott had dug up something in Derek Hale's property. He was arrested the morning after. What had they dug up to get him time in jail? I wanted to ask Stiles so desperately, but that was my ace in the hole. My advantage was my secrecy, they didn't know I watched them dig up something and then unwrap a rope with a flower tied to it from the thing in the hole. I didn't want to blackmail him, but I doubted Vee could get answers by seduction this time.

Besides, even though his dad's the Sheriff, what are the odds he heard about this call too? I had no solid Plan A, B, C or what. I had only Patch to rely on, and I couldn't find him until third period where he just blew me off, saying "Not now." and running off to class. Since when does Patch Cipriano run off _to _class?

"Can I help you?" The secretary asked, fifteen minutes into the last hour of school. This was the moment Vee decided to check out Derek Hale's student file because of what Elliot said the other day about him having been a student here. Like he knew this was about to happen. Had he tipped off Stiles and Scott or was I being paranoid again? Her purpose was to see if he had a criminal history we could report on the eZine. I didn't want to be the one to do it, but it was either snoop into the student's files or distract the secretary.

I forced myself to smile at her, hoping that I didn't look as deceitful as I felt. "I have a prescription that I take daily here, and my friend—" My voice caught on the word, wondering if I'd ever be able to call Vee that again if we get caught because of _her_ idea and my lack of ability to say no. "—my friend informed me that I'm supposed to register it. With the nurse? Do you know if that's correct?"

I couldn't believe that I was actually standing there, intending to do something illegal. Then again, I'm pretty sure stalking is illegal in all fifty states and I had done plenty of that as of late. Add to that I had gotten into a stranger's car to keep Allison safe – a stranger that was oddly flirty around a girl who wasn't legal yet.

"Oh, yeah," the secretary said casually popping pink gum. "All drugs need to be registered. The, um, nurse's office is out back through there," She pointed. "Third door to your left, across from the student records." She gestured into the hallway behind her. "If the nurse isn't there, you can just take a seat inside her office. She should be back any minute."

I fabricated another smile, glade I didn't have to lie anymore. I wasn't sure how good I was at it yet, but average wasn't even close to how bad I was at lying. I'd really hoped it wouldn't be this easy. Heading down the hall, I stopped several times to check over my shoulder. Nobody came up behind me. I was disappointed, I wanted to get caught to have an excuse to tell Vee.

The phone in the front office started ringing, but it sounded like it was from a different dimension from where I stood. I was all alone, where it was eerily quiet, free to do as I pleased.

A quick glance across the hall revealed a door with a window marked STUDENT RECORDS. It was dark so nobody was inside.

I focused my attention on a nagging thought at the back of my mind. What if Derek had removed his student files? Or what if they were removed when a person wasn't a student anymore. He didn't seem to be. He'd have a home address at the very least, I reasoned. I leaned one shoulder against the wall and checked my watch. Vee had told me to wait for her signal.

She said it would be obvious. I sighed.

The phone in the front office rang again, and the secretary picked up. Chewing my lip, I stole a second glimpse at the door labelled STUDENT RECORDS from where I leaned on the nurse's office. There was a good chance it was locked. Student files were probably high security or something. So it didn't matter what kind of diversion Vee created; if the door was locked, I wasn't getting in. Period.

I shifted my backpack to the opposite shoulder. Another minute ticked down aggravatingly. Should I have left? What if Vee was right and he was stalking me? Regular contact with him could place me in danger, especially if he was going around the school watching lacrosse. Watching Scott. I had a responsibility to protect myself … didn't I? Or was I making it all about me?

If the door was unlocked and the files were alphabetized, I would have no trouble locating Derek's quickly. Add another few seconds to skim his file for any serious red areas, and I could probably be in and out of the room in under a minute if I was lucky.

Things had grown unusually quiet out in the front office. There was no gum popping. No more ringing phones. Suddenly Vee rounded the corner. She edged down the wall toward me, walking in a crouch, dragging her hands along the wall, stealing surreptitious glances over her shoulder. It was the kind of walk spies adopted in old movies.

"Everything's taken care of." She whispered. "The secretary had to leave for a minute." She added, aftering looking at my expression. I left it on my face and she sighed. "I called in a bomb threat from the pay phone outside. I don't think they took me too seriously."

"Move over," Vee said, giving me her hip. She drew her sleeve down over her fist and drilled it into the window. Nothing happened. "That was just for practice," she said. She drew back for another punch and I grabbed her arm.

"It might be unlocked." I said, turning the knob. The door swung open.

"That was no fun," said Vee. "You go in," Vee instructed. "I'm going to keep surveillance. If all goes well, we'll rendezvous in about an hour. Meet me at the Mexican restaurant 'round the corner." She crouch- walked back down the hall with a bob of her head.

I was left standing in the narrow room lined wall -to-wall with filing cabinets. Before my conscience talked me out of it, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, pressing my back against it.

With a deep breath I slouched off my backpack that landed with a thud and hurried forward, dragging my finger along the faces of the cabinets like I did the spines of books at bookstores. I found the drawer marked H. With one tug the drawer open and the tabs on the files were labelled by hand, and I wondered if Beacon Hills High was the last school in the country not computerized. My eyes brushed over the name "Hale." I wrenched the file from the crammed drawer. I held it in my hands for a moment, trying to convince myself there was nothing wrong with what I was about to do. I suddenly wished I was Vee, courageous, tells it how it is, living-life-on-the-edge-Vee.

I fumbled the file open and immediately flinched like I had been punched in the gut. It didn't make any sense. I shoved the file randomly inside the drawer and gave it a push with my hip, sending it rattling back into the cabinet. As I turned, I contemplated ducking. On the other side of the window, Ms. Morrell stopped midstride, her gaze latching onto me. She opened the door. So much for ducking.

Before she could say anything, I tugged at the zipper on my backpack. "I'm supposed to register these. Iron pills," I explained. "I'm anemic. You knew that right?"

She studied me for a moment, her brow creasing. "Yes, I remember Nora. Could you come into my office for a moment?" She propped the door wide and I ducked out under her arm, my smile collapsing.

Her office is white-bricked but still plain. She was distant, telling me herself that she didn't want to show anything personal of her's like the last psychologist. He had filled the office with photos, ornaments and personal items he cherished. She didn't want to risk losing anything but I didn't believe her. She had worked here a while. She had had time to pack her things in her desk. She just didn't want to.

"Nora. Do you know the definition of mistrust?"

"Not trusting someone." I said mechanically, wryly.

"No. Being suspicious. Not giving confidentiality."

"Do you think I don't trust you, Ms. Morrell?" I tried to fake a laugh to make her believe how preposterous it sounded. "You've been my guidance counsellor for years. I trust you."

"Okay. Good. Do you want to tell me who you don't trust? Someone who used to be in this school maybe or who still is? I know that when people are arrested it rouses suspicion among people. With the Derek Hale arrest, do you think you were subconsciously trying to sneak a look into his personal file?" She asked. Her hand moved under the desk to pull her draw out. The smooth roll of wood relaxed me a bit. I felt a little less like I was being interrogated.

She dropped down a manila folder onto her desk. DEREK HALE was printed on the front in red ink on a white stripe of sticky paper. I looked flabbergasted for what felt like hours. "Y-You took it. You knew that with his arrest it might be searched. Isn't that illegal?" When I had opened the Hale folder I had only found Laura, Peter, Gemma and Raven inside. No Derek.

"Perhaps. But isn't what you were trying to do also illegal? Nora, until this blows over, until Derek is sentenced for whatever crime he committed, this folder will not return to the student files room. There are things in here that nobody needs to see. Not even the police. Do you understand?" I nodded.

"Good. Who did you trust to help you with this?"

"Vee. It was her idea. But don't hold it against her." I blurted out. "Why would you trust me?"

"Because you said you trust me." She responded. "Trusting someone doesn't just mean telling them what's inside your diary. It's letting them have it. Of course I can't give you this file." I felt the corners of my mouth twitch. "And I'm going to advise you to keep away from Derek Hale as much as you can. Other than him, who else don't you trust?" I didn't respond. She smiled.

"Okay. Mistrust often leads to paranoia. Paranoia will make beliefs exaggerated. You see a shadow behind you and paranoia makes your brain think someone is following you. Have you experienced that as of late?"

"No. But I have received a leather pouch with a powder only you know about."

"Ask Patch about that powder, Nora. See what he says. In fact, why don't you ask Stilinski or McCall or Ms. Argent instead of your usual crowd?" She said. I knew she wasn't supposed to be saying it. Something in the way she spoke, like a hushed whisper, told me she was selling me forbidden fruit.

"Besides Ms. Sky and Mr. Cipriano?"

"Yes. Try socialising a little more with others like McCall."

"Should I keep my powder or not?" I asked tersely. She had brought up Scott. The last time I passed him with the pouch peeking out of the pocket of my jeans it stung him.

"Of course." She responded, smile never leaving from its snapped position on her face. She took the folder back into her drawer and locked it with a key that hung around her neck, buried in her cleavage. "Do we have more to discuss?" She asked innocently.

"About Derek—"

"And Scott?"

"This had nothing to do with Scott." I said, through gritted teeth. She laughed.

"Of course it does." She said, then added, titillating slowly, "It also has to do with Allison, Stiles, Vee, Patch—" I had heard enough. I scraped back the chair and whirled for the door. Before opening it she called out, "Keep the pouch tucked in." I looked down into the pocket of my jeans. There it was, peeking out again. I shoved it down, purple powder gathering on my fingertips and sticking to them like hard candy.

I slammed the door shut behind me with unnecessary force. Recalling my short session with her, I realised that she had linked Scott and Derek together. Subtly, but she did. Then when I asked her about the powder she said I should have it on me. I didn't know if she meant all the time or just around Scott but then she mentioned Allison, Stiles, Vee and Patch.

Did the night of the full moon mean more than I was letting myself believe? Was the powder tied to... those sort of people? But those lupine type people... why was Scott more animalistic than Derek? Was it because of age? Ii decided that the next time I would see Derek I'd have to spill some of the powder on him. I was going to have to do that to most people now.

An hour later I slid into a corner booth at the Mexican restaurant Vee told me to meet her. An earthenware cactus and a horribly stuffed coyote were disturbingly mounted on the wall above me on display.

Vee came up behind me and flopped into the opposite seat. Our waiter was on her heels.

"Four chimis, extra sour cream, a side of nachos, and a side of black beans," Vee told him without consulting the menu.

"One red burrito," I said, making Vee look bad unintentionally.

"Separate bills?" he asked.

"Yeah." Vee and I said at the same time.

After our waiter left, I said, "Four chimis. I'm looking forward to hearing the fruit connection." Vee was on the colour wheel fruit diet and I just loved to tease her about it.

"Don't even start. I'm starving. Haven't eaten since lunch." She paused. "If you don't count the Hot Tamales, which I don't."

"He'd better bring chips soon," said Vee. "I'll break out sweating meat if I don't eat something salty within the next..." She looked at my watch, forcing the sleeve up. "Forty five seconds. And anyway, the first three letters in the word diet should tell you what I want it to do."

"They make salsa with tomatoes," I pointed out. "That's a red. And avocados are a fruit. I think."

Her face brightened. "And we'll order virgin strawberry daiquiris."

"Be right back," she said, sliding out of the booth. "That time of the month. After that, I want to get the scoop."

While waiting for her, I found myself looking over to the busboy a few tables away from me. He was scrubbing a rag over a table. There was something strangely familiar about him, the way he moved, about the way his shirt fell over his back as he leaned to scrub. Almost as if he suspected he was being watched, he straightened his spine and stiffly turned, his eyes fixing on mine. At first I had thought it was Stiles but it wasn't. It was Patch. As soon as he sat down I bombarded him with questions. "I talked to Ms. Morrell. She said to ask you about the powder?"

"Give me a minute to breath."

"I don't have a minute, Vee could be back any minute."

His brows hooked together. He looked thoughtful. "Keeping things from your best friend?"

"Aren't you keeping all this from your boyfriend?"

"I never said Danny was my boyfriend."

"Neither did I." I responded, slouching back into the booth. I had leaned forward as if to hear every word that he was going to say but his retorts were unsatisfactory. I wasn't impressed. He was. He whistled, then folded his arms onto the table. They were so long they crossed into my half of the table.

"Look, we're only trying to protect you."

I wanted to say that I didn't need protection. But I didn't know what I was being protected from. So instead I asked who was protecting me. Before he opened his mouth, I interjected, "Besides you. Who dropped the pouch into my bag for example?"

"That was all Ms. Morrell."

"You partners in crime?"

"It's not illegal keeping someone safe, is it?" He asked rhetorically. When I didn't answer he just smiled to himself, like he would a private joke. I thought about what to say next but came up dry. As if expecting another question, Patch sighed and rested the side of his head on his palm, elbow on the edge of the table.

"Don't I have a right to know what I'm being protected from?"

"We're trying to ease you into it." He responded, cryptically.

I choked on the ice water I drank. A whole cube of ice bobbed in my throat. "What?"

He responded dolefully slow. "We're trying. To ease. You into it."

"What is 'it'?"

"The truth."

"I can't ask what it is because you're trying to ease me into it." I said to myself. He nodded. "It has to be life-changing to not give it to me straight. It has to be psychological if Ms. Morrell is part of it. Who else is protecting me?"

"That's classified."

"So I don't get to know who's trying to protect me, easing me into the truth?" He shook his head. "Fine. What are you protecting me from. Besides the truth?"

A slow smile spread to his eyes from his lips. "I'm impressed Grey. How did you know it was twofold?"

"You can't protect me from something if you're easing me into it. Unless you're protecting me from myself which I doubt you are."

"Clever." He muttered. "Well, Derek Hale for starters. He seems to have quite the obsession with you, doesn't he?"

"That's why you drove me to his house. But he's arrested now." I said, not wanting to talk about Stiles and Scott. "I'm safe, right?"

"Do you even know why he was arrested?"

"No." I said. "Do you?"

"Ask Stiles."

"What does he have to do with this?"

"His dad's the Sheriff." He said.

"I tried looking into Derek Hale's student file," I said. "But Ms. Morrell caught me and took me to her desk. She showed me she had his file to keep him safe. If you're trying to protect me, and she is too, why would she try to simultaneously protect him too?"

"Because you're not ready to know the whole truth yet." The way he said it was sharp. There was an undertone to his words, an echo of the past. Like he had a history or a grudge.

"Do you have some sort of history with Derek?"

"No, not that Hale."

"Then which?" I remembered back to the Hale folder. Laura, Peter, Raven, Gemma. Those were the four names in the folder, save for Derek's which was stored in Ms. Morrell's desk.

"Why don't you just do your homework?" He said, leisurely sliding out of the booth. "Like your dad did." He said, trying to sound very soft all of a sudden. I could tell he took no joy in what he was saying, but it was definitely necessary in the long run.

I choked on the water I was drinking. A whole cube of ice rasped against my windpipe. "What?"

"Nora." He said, in a softer tone like he was talking to a small child. "The pouch is supposed to protect you." I was out of the booth when he said it, meeting his hard gaze. When he turned I caught his wrist. I squeezed and felt his pulse.

I gasped and tore my hand away. He was unfazed, he didn't even look down. As he walked away, waving to me backwards, clear small fingerprints, my fingerprints, were etched into the vein on his skin in bright powdery purple. But my fingertips, the skin under them, burned with a throbbing, pulsing vibe.

At the mention of my dad the world popped. I couldn't find my balance. Nausea held an iron fist around my stomach and wasn't letting go. I briefly remembered talking to Vee as she held me up and walked me over to the parking lot. By this time my stomach was full.

She drove me home. Mom greeted me at the door, thanking Vee. I tried watching the Neon bounce away but Mom forced me inside to drink something that was cold against my fingers but burned down my throat. Mom said something about my counsellor and left the room. A cold strip of cloth was slowly cooling on my forehead, my feet were propped up on the edge of the couch and I was coming down with what my mom thought was a fever.

I contemplated calling Patch. He could know what was happening to me. To pass the time my brain joggled out answers to what might have been occurring. Panic attack from hearing Patch talk about my dad, even though he had been dead for ten years, associating him with the Hales. I meant no disrespect to that family and what had stolen most of their lives but they were just plain scary. If I was judging their whole family by one, that was.

My mom entered the room again. "Did you and Vee go out drinking? Could this be because you're drunk and... And you're body is trying to..." The unspoken between us was what was shaking her up the most. Some sort of quick-happening poison or illness. Probably the latter, who would poison me? That was a far-fetched idea that Vee could pull off. I laughed fondly. Mom's hand was on my forehead again, replacing the rag and stroking my bare arm.

My head lolled. A phone was in my mom's hand. "Who did you call?" I croaked, forcing each syllable out, like I used to force magnets together at school. Only I was replacing the magnets with words and my throat.

"Your counsellor, dear. She's coming over with a doctor to check on you. We don't know if this is psychological." She said. Ms. Morrell often told me that things that were psychological often had a physical effect. Being sick to your stomach was one of them. Right now, I did feel sick to my stomach but it wasn't because of the memory, or lack thereof, of my father. I was still relatively sure that it was a slow-acting illness. Or poison. My eyes slid shut for just a moment.

"_Might want to be careful with that." She said, turning back. "It could be poisonous."_

"_What?" I squeaked and dropped the pouch._

"_For some." She added. "For others it's completely harmless. You have my permission to go to the restroom. But make sure all that powder is gone by the time I turn my back to begin the lesson."_

"Mom!"

"I'm right here." She cooed. My fingers scrambled to my pocket. When they poked through into the denim nothing but small balls of fluff clung onto my fingers. I stared at my misshapen claws, shaking like leaves in the wind. Patch. I touched Patch and left a purple print on his hand. Maybe he was experiencing the same thing. Maybe he would know how to treat it. Patch. He was the key to this. Not Ms. Morrell. The fact that I trusted him more than her was a contributing factor of why I needed him to be on his way, in his Jeep Commander, right now. Now Ms. Morrell and a doctor.

To my utter displeasure, Mom leaped up to open the door. I hadn't even heard the doorbell. I groaned. When the door swung on its well-oiled hinges my breath stopped. It was dark. Too dark. How long had I been strung on this couch? On the ride over, it was just getting dark. Wasn't it?

This was bad. I was losing sense of time, my sweat was making my clothes cling to me like a second skin, my hearing was impaired and so was my touch and taste. Was my smell next? My vision? Suddenly, I was increasingly tired. Maybe that was psychological. Wanting to go to bed before the doctor would see me.

Ms. Morrell strolled through the door. A car was parked down the street. Good, they didn't ring the doorbell. They honked to warn my mom. Did they share a car?

When Ms. Morrell clipped on her heels towards me, the doctor behind her was revealed. He talked in a hushed whisper to my mom whilst Ms. Morrell knelt beside me. Her knees popped. She wore a dark jacket zipped up to the collar, concealing a necklace that glowed under the bright living room's lights.

The doctor was bald, impeccably so, and darker than Ms. Morrell. He had a scruff of dark beard resting, but well groomed, on his lower chin. Due to his baldness, his ears stood out. He had full lips, dark brows that were very close to each other, a gallivant nose and almond-shaped eyes that were just as dark and glittering. As he inched closer to me, bending down to reach my pulse, I noticed how long his neck was peeking out of his buttoned up dark blue shirt. "Hello." He said.

"Hi." I responded.

"I'm Dr. Alan Deaton. Marin's brother." I looked over from Alan to Ms. Morrell. So her name was Marin. Nice to know. He sounded like her, measure and restricted but close to threatening if he wanted to. Ms. Morrell gave me a comforting smile. "You're in good hands." He said.

"Doctor, can you tell us what the problem is?" My mom asked, floating around my vision but seemingly avoiding it. When I caught a full-on look at her, her eyes flickered down. A bright blush met at her nose spreading from her ears. Ms. Morrell gave her a pointed, meaningful look.

"Well it seems to be just a fever but they usually don't happen over an hour." He said, calmly.

"Alan's a vet." Ms. Morrell added.

"My daughter is not an animal!" My mother scoffed, as if offended by the idea. Not that it wasn't the perfect time to remind about Darwin's evolutionary theories, but it wasn't. Not really.

"That's why you'll have to cooperate with us even more than usual, Nora." He said.

"Symptoms?" Ms. Morrell tried, usefully. She gripped my hands but I took them out from under her warm embrace. I sat up, legs flipping over the side so my feet would touch the ground Ms. Morrell knelt on.

"Dizziness. Hallucinations." I started, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. "Rising temperature. Losing sense of the basic senses."

"Which?" He asked with purpose.

"Not smell or sight. Possibly..." I swallowed again. "Hearing."

"Taste and feeling then?" Ms. Morrell asked, to clarify things. I nodded. Dr. Alan Deaton started whispering again, much to my annoyance. I caught a few words, but out of context. The one that alarmed me the most was _aconite_.

"Was it the powder?" I whispered to Ms. Morrell, who hadn't left my side since she swooped inside. Her arms went under my armpits and she pulled me towards her. I automatically hugged her back. Then she whispered back, lips almost at my air, breath ghosting along the back of my neck as she tucked her chin in the crook where shoulder and neck met.

"Yes."

I didn't know how to react, what to feel. So I sighed, broke the hug and muttered, "Thought so." After a beat I added, "Why would you give me poisonous powder?"

"It doesn't burn you, it doesn't poison you. It will strengthen you and protect you. This is your body trying to get accustom to it." She said, like a professor would orient a lecture.

"What is he telling my mom?"

"That's the question you want to ask?"

"Patch filled me in... a little. Only the basics." I said, lowering her elegantly raised eyebrow. "When will my body... stop... fever?"

"It'll go as quickly as it came." She said.

"Good to know."

A short while later, brother and sister were in the room alone. My mom must've left to use the bathroom or something. They thought I was asleep. I felt that way. But I wasn't. My body was turned so they couldn't see my face as I opened my eyes. But I heard a lot.

"How can you be sure?" A manly voice asked. Deaton.

"I'm not. Not really." Ms. Morrell answered. But she didn't talk like she would to me. This was her brother. Her guard was down, dangerously low.

"So why are you risking it?" He hissed.

"Don't point fingers Alan." She spat back. I heard her boot clip the floor. She took a step forward. "I know about your little assistant too. Like you're not going to assist him?"

"That's different. We've talked about him, Marin."

"We haven't decided anything. It only happened eleven days ago."

"Exactly. We haven't decided anything. But you already have, apparently. What were you thinking giving the girl wolfsbane?" He said. I thought it was called aconite.

"I wanted to protect her from _things _like Derek." Was Derek who they haven't decided on?

"Things like Derek won't hurt her."

"But what about the ones who were bitten over born? Hmm, what about Scott?" She asked. Another clip. So Scott was the one they hadn't decided on yet.

"He won't hurt anyone." Alan assured her. I heard the rustle of clothes. A hand on a shoulder perhaps? I heard a slap following.

"Don't touch me Alan! Lives hang in the balance! He might not hurt anyone because of Derek but what about the _mutt _that bit him?"

"That's why Derek's back. Don't you see? Everything is in balance, Marin. Nature is not overturned with one more boy bitten."

"What about on more girl dead because of these things." She retorted, malice latching onto her words.

"She'll have justice."

"Because Scott and his friend dug her up? Derek wasn't the one who killed his own sister. It was the thing that bit Scott!"

"How do you know it was Derek's sister?" Alan asked. I practically heard his brows being drawn together.

"Oh please. Same way I know Nora is one of us. Only three made it out of that fire, Alan. That we know of. Derek. Laura. Peter. Peter is catatonic. Derek and Laura left and now she's dead. Derek's here to avenge her." I sucked in a quiet breath. I felt like a sledgehammer had hit my ribs my heart was beating so fast.

"Then how do we know Derek didn't bite her?" Alan asked.

"Derek's not an Alpha." As in the Greek alphabet?

"How do you justify your actions with this girl? Because of Patch? Is that it?"

"Of course not. Patch wants the same thing as me. To keep the balance."

"Then why give an innocent wolfsbane?"

"Because I know she's not as weak as this." Ms. Morrell said, taking on a defensive tone.

"How do you explain this poisoning?" He asked bluntly.

"Like you weren't poisoned by aconite when mama taught you?"

"That's not the point Marin!" Alan shouted now, definitely alarming my mother. They didn't have long left before she would come down from wherever she was. Somehow, I knew I was safe with both of them in my house, even if my mother wasn't here with me. I wasn't worried. I knew they weren't lying. Or crazy.

"Alan, Nora will be protected. She's a target because of her dad but I will teach her everything I know. All the knowledge I have because. She has. That right." She announced, clipping three or four steps before Alan spoke again.

"What about Vee?" He asked. Goosebumps rippled along my arms. What about Vee? I knew she had no part in this. If he wanted her, he'd have to go through me. And now Ms. Morrell. And Patch.

"I tried to separate her but she's not going to stop being friends with her just like that. I can try to give her a push towards the Argent girl but it won't be easy. She's already friendly with Stilinski, which is bad enough." Ms. Morrell reported.

"And Marcie?"

Ms. Morrell took her time answering. I felt my vision darken. The orange light from behind my eyelids turned black. Her shadow was cast over me, blocking the light. She was watching me.

"Leave her out of this. Parents shouldn't be included."

"Isn't that why you're... training Nora?" Alan asked, starting to grind my gears. Now Marcie? Who next, Harvey?"

"Yes, but Marcie will be fine. Especially with her dad." I'm not sure I got that reference. I knew they were rich but did Ms. Morrell mean because of that fact they had affordable protection? Or was it something else?

Mom was audible from upstairs, flushing the toilet and then climbing down the stairs. Ms. Morrell and her brother stiffened. She thanked them and lead them out of the house. I feigned I was still asleep. I don't remember much else from that night. I didn't dream. I don't think I even slept. But I remember my mom. She stroked my hair. As I rolled over I saw her clutching something in her hand. She whispered something over and over to hush me but I couldn't make out the words. I could only see, through bleary eyes, a tear stain on my father's crumpled picture in her hands.

* * *

Shrill ringing buzzed me out of my sleep. The sound reverberated through the house giving off a distant echo like the craw of a lone crow. I struggled to peel my eyes open and sling my hand out of the sheets to the bedside table where my phone currently sang.

When I managed to drag it across my chest and up the crook of my neck to my ear I forgot I hadn't answered. The ringing stopped. From my sat-up position I sagged and rolled back into bed. I had a solid minute before my phone sang in my hand again, muffled slightly by the curl of my fingers. I growled as I answered.

"Nora Grey." A gruff male voice said on the other end of the line. My endeavour to reply was cut off by a yawn. After a satisfying stretch I answered with a curt hum.

"It's Derek."

My body spasmed, rejecting the information with flailing limbs that sent the phone in my hand to my feet. The screen lit up as it arced up over my body to crush my big toe. I couldn't scream. My throat constricted as a tight balloon swelled up in my chest restricting my heart from pumping blood around my body. Numbness clotted around my veins and pinpricks pierced my interior skin.

Bending at the waist, I grabbed the phone like a homeless person would a scrap of food. I heard him grunt and curse as he heard silence over on my end. "What do you want?" I demanded, feeling my heart going into overdrive. Something near adrenaline fuelled my desire to squeeze the truth out of his muscled neck. I hadn't given much thought to what Ms. Morrell and Dr. Deaton said last night. I couldn't give in to the temptation of speculation when I didn't have the whole truth. Which was what I really needed. Something was happening, something indescribable was blooming in a field of tulips that were ripe and ready. I wasn't on that field. I was lacking the sunlight to grow out of my shell, despite how much I wanted to crack it and break free. In order to do that, I needed to know the whole picture, put together the whole puzzle.

"We need to talk." He said simply. After a while I got tired of hearing him breath. Only when I was sure he was waiting for me to say something back did I respond.

"Well you're not doing much of that right now."

"Takes two to tango."

"I don't dance." I responded, mechanically. He sensed my flat tone and gurgled out a too-pleasant rumbling chuckle. "Spit it out, Hale. What do you want to talk about?"

"You could be nicer to me, you know." I wanted to say that I knew just how rude I was being and that he obviously knew I was doing it to rush this conversation so he was staling on purpose. But why?

"Why?" I challenged, a smirk forming on my lips.

"Because I'm using my one phone call on you."

"Why would you wait so long? You were arrested Wednesday morning."

"They only let me now."

"Do they know I'm a minor that's not related?"

"No." He said. I could taste his pleasure. How much he liked that we were in this third dimension, one he had shut the door on so no one else could get in when he was titillating and teasing me. But not like a brother would. Like a boyfriend would. He had this way about him, this charm and flirtation, which made your brain think you had had a love-hate relationship for years. He tricked you, somehow, into getting familiar with him so that when he pulled stunts like this you'd pinch his cheek instead of slapping his wrist.

That was my theory anyway.

"Called your attorney?" I asked.

"Yep."

"He let you use the phone?"

"Yep."

"So you're just striking up a conversation with me before school, waking me up too, just because... what? You were bored?"

"I'd sooner call you than Stiles." He said, point-blank abrupt. I frowned and inwardly cringed. What had Stiles gotten himself into with Derek? I knew he and Scott had dug up the body in his property but he was watching Scott the day I found him at lacrosse practice when Jackson's shoulder or arm was broken.

Or was he watching Stiles instead?

"Why would that be?" I pressed, coaxing an answer out of him and choosing my words carefully. I didn't want to give him the impression I cared too much so I tried to keep my tone nonchalant, but it came off as bored with too many sighs in between.

"'Cause the boy's a pain in my ass." Derek chuckled. I didn't. It was too early to be processing this right now. I didn't trust Derek at all. He could've been just playing with my head, knowing that I had a crush on Stiles, but _how_ he laughed and _how _he said it made it seem to real and so genuine... I didn't like hearing this non-flirty side of Derek, the one that didn't want the attention from the Sheriff's ADHD son because although it sounds selfish like I was jealous Stiles got Derek's attention more than me, it just sounded wrong in my ears and tasted wrong on my tongue. Did he not want the Sheriff's son's attention because of wrong reasons, related with law-breaking, or because he was trying to do something else. Which went full-circle: if he didn't want all this attention, why did he move back to Beacon Hills?

"Not the kind of attention you were hoping for when you made your grand entrance back to Beacon?" I asked, taking on a steadier tone.

"Hit a nerve?"

"Swing and a miss."

"I didn't come back to Beacon Hills to be locked up falsely accused of murder, if that's what you were implying." He said, steely.

"Then why did you return?"

"Awfully personal question." He drawled, making me seem like the awkward one. To save myself the springing of tears and burning of cheeks humiliation I could see coming I responded with a scoff. "Nice comeback." He said dryly.

"Personal question?" I mocked. "I'm not the one calling some stranger a day after being arrested because I'm bored."

"I'm not bored anymore." He said. And I feel that flip-flopping feeling in my stomach again, the heavy and sticky one that makes me melt hearing his voice. I hate that feeling. I want it gone. I want him gone. Scratch that. I want him to stay where he is, not on the phone, in the police station behind bars.

"How petty. You had to rile up a sixteen-year-old girl by saying how much her crush is interested in you to entertain you." I blustered out, heat building up inside of me. But it went cold when I realised what I had said. I had just given him so much power over me and he didn't even have to poke the bear to get it. One comment, a sly and easy one, and I was spewing hot-headedly.

"Oh that's cute, Nora. You like Stiles. He is a cute one. Thinks he's brave too. Stood right up to me in the cop car. Got all up in my face behind the chain link fence separating us."

"Stay away from—"

"He came to me, Nora. Seems like he's vying for my attention."

"I was going to say 'me'." I snapped. My finger slid over the END CALL button.

"Nora. Before you go."

"What!?"

"Check your dad's study."

He hung up.

I tried to keep my cool. After about a minute of gaping at the phone, I repositioned myself so that I was more comfortable lying in bed. I thought that a miniature before-school nap before I woke up would be good and refresh myself again, like hitting the restart button. I couldn't get comfortable so I fluffed the pillow, billowed the sheets around me but neither of those things were the problem. For some reason, something was jutting out of the mattress like a broken spring. But it was odd. I hadn't felt it snap at all. The time before when a spring had gotten loose, it always woke me up from my sleep and I felt it snap. I was a light sleeper, which was also the reason my phone only woke me up and not my mom.

I threw my legs over the side of the bed and drew the sheets to the foot of the bed. Bouncing my hand on the spot where I felt the painful stab in my lower back led me to believe that I was imagining things. I hated it when I thought I was hallucinating. My aconite poisoning should've blown over by now, so I had hoped.

I dug my hand into the space between the frame of the bed and the mattress, twisting my fingers under the soft weight until they coiled around my diary. The smooth cover lifted my spirits a little. My companion would have nothing to say back to me as I scribbled down, in vivid detail, all that had happened to me the past weeks.

Getting the diary out was a task and a half. I managed to lift the mattress higher and skid the diary over the bottom frame of my bed so that it hit the edge. Upon doing so, I found Vee's notebook still secretly tucked away there from the night she came over and helped put together my outfit for Lydia's party.

Ignoring my diary for now, Vee's notebook promised me a great deal of things. To know what she was thinking, which she always left out in her diary on purpose, to know what was underneath the bubbly surface of Vee herself, which as a best friend you'd think was an obligation, to know what she wrote all the goddamn time in that stupid notebook. It was lined, I could tell from edge where blue lines decorated it, and spiralled so she could rip out pages if she needed to.

The aftermath of that conversation was reduced to a minimal when I texted Vee she had to pick me up earlier. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, had breakfast and all that status quo. Mom had just rolled out of bed when Vee honked her horn. I ended up stuffing her notebook into my bag and never opening it. I felt like it broke all the terms of our long-lasting friendship and was just a very shady... Marcie Millar thing to do. So no, I didn't read what was inside her notebook because I respected Vee's privacy. If she ever wanted to tell me what she wrote in her notebook that was fine, but if she didn't that was good to because I wasn't going to push her to do it.

She certainly wasn't pushing me to tell her anything about all the strange occurrences that had been happening to me as of late. But maybe that was because I hadn't told her about any of that. Guilt swept me off my feet.

I gave Mom a chaste kiss on the cheek and rushed outside. Slamming the car door shut and peeling away to school left little room for conversation with Vee. But I had decided to tell her about Derek and so I did. We just didn't have much time to talk about it. She was as stunned as I was.

I focused on school. School, school, school. I did not let my mind wander to either conversation with Derek or Ms. Morrell and Dr. Deaton. I didn't see her once, which was a plus. I sat with Vee, as usual, for lunch until Elliot joined us.

"How's it cracking, girls?" He asked with an easy smile, slipping into the seat. His silverware clattered as his tray hit the table. Vee and I smiled back, despite having to cut short our Derek Hale conspiracy theories. The main one was that he wanted to finish what my father had started with what he had collected before his death.

"Hey Elliot." I said unenthusiastically. Vee didn't kick me under the table this time because she too wasn't her usually perky self. I don't know what it was Derek had about him that made him like a Venus flytrap, but that's what we decided he was. And the best way to destroy a Venus flytrap was to let it wilt, or rot behind a jail cell.

Vee thankfully struck up a conversation with him with a smoothness that was one of her most envious traits, which left me alone with my thoughts. But the problem was that I didn't want to be alone with them. I needed social interactions with other people to get my mind off of Derek Hale and Ms. Morrell and Stiles freaking Stilinski.

"... Jules?" Vee asked. That was literally the first thing I heard when I started to pay attention to their conversation. Vee, mentioning his name, looked like a dog that was taught to stand on its hind legs and balance a treat on its nose. Only after the count of three was it allowed to eat the treat. One. Two. Three.

"He hasn't asked about you, sorry Vee."

Eat the treat.

Instantly, there was a change in her disposition.

Her shoulders crumpled in on themselves leading people to believe she was an animated female version of the Hunchback of Notre-Dame. She looked crestfallen and probably felt worse. I knew her well enough to notice how fake it was when she regained her composure and made an exaggerated sad face.

"Oh!" I said, reaching into my bag. "I forgot to give you this, this morning. It's your notebook. Remember? You left it at mine the night of Lydia's party."

Vee's face lit up like a Christmas tree, or a kid watching his Christmas tree light up. Elliot, however, stiffened visibly and was drained of any colour in his cheeks. "You okay?" Vee asked, eyeing him suspiciously as she took her notebook from me, no longer bouncing in her seat.

"Yeah." Elliot croaked, then he cleared his throat. "Hey, wasn't Lydia's party on the full moon?"

"Maybe. I dunno, can't really remember." Vee answered as she tugged her backpack up with her notebook in it. I guess I missed my chance to ask her about it. I had told her about my poetry as an explanation from when she and I had exchanged diaries. I felt like it was a really personal thing to me and I wanted to share it with her if she was writing poetry too in her notebook. I couldn't imagine why she was keep this secret with her, despite all we had unravelled from each other's diaries. I just made no sense to me why she would trust me with the secrets entombed in her diary and not the notebook she always had on her. "Why, you some kind of astrology major?"

"Yeah, used to be in Kinghorn Prep." He said.

"I've always found astrology really... romantic." I said. Elliot's eyes looked like they had just been lit on fire. Enthusiasm rolled off of Vee in visible waves of light. She grinned as she took a bite of her food and cocked her head to look at Elliot. He looked dead cold. From the way his body shook, I was guessing Vee had bumped his knee or something. She gave him a flash of her eyebrows – once up and once down – suggestively followed by a quick cock to my direction. I was staring down at my lap, folding my hands together.

Then I remembered in biology, to let a possible mate know you're interested, the girl has to give off some sort of clue with her body language. I felt myself blushing, which was already an instant reaction by watching everything unfold before my eyes, already so I played with my hair with one hand and lay the other on the table. My fingers were inches apart from his tray.

"What about it do you find... _romantic, _Nora." He whispered my name but mocked my words which gave me conflicting thoughts. I knew I didn't want to one-up the guy I was trying to flirt with on a subject he was supposed to be a 'major' in, so I tried to tone down my words.

"The whole concept of how stars are luminous spheres of plasma, just held together by gravity is... fascinating." I said. I knew how bad I was, but astrology is a little hard to sweet-talk. Vee gave me a pointed look. I tried to look innocent as I said, "But maybe you could teach me more about it?" The tone in which I used was like Vee's suggestive seductive voice, the one she uses when she wants to manipulate someone.

In a way I really was manipulating Elliot. The whole reason I had sprung up this surprise-flirt-attack on him was so Stiles would get jealous. We had chosen the table behind his on purpose but he didn't bat an eye as Vee and I passed him.

Vee insisted on taking the seat opposite so I had my back to him, giving him the cold shoulder as he was to me. But maybe hearing me flirt with another guy – however awful it was – would wake him up to reality. I wanted so show Derek he was wrong. I wanted him to eat his words when I stole Stiles from him, even if he was lying it bothered me more than it should have that Stiles paid more attention to hunky Derek than leggy me. Patch was gay but I didn't crush on him before I found out.

Speaking of Patch, Elliot didn't have enough time to formulate an answer before Lydia plopped down beside me. Jackson took my left, so he was facing Elliot. About half a second later, Danny came by sitting beside Vee with Patch attached at the hip to him.

Vee shot me a series of looks. It was like watching one of those films that happen really fast so they look like a film but are really made up of a sequence of pictures moving inch by inch. She mouthed to me _what_? I shrugged, cringing. Elliot stared at our reaction. We stopped the second they all sat down and were talking.

"Hey." Jackson said, to Elliot. "You're the new guy, right? Saunders. You flunked out of Kinghorn." It wasn't a question but it was rude to state out of the blue.

"Jackson!" Lydia said, shaking her head. "He didn't flunk out of school. His parents couldn't afford tuition."

"Word spreads fast, huh?" Elliot muttered, not intimidated but clearly frustrated.

"So fast," Danny started. "That everybody knew the second Derek Hale was arrested." I restrained myself from flinching at the name. Danny's small almond-shaped eyes met his boyfriend's pitch black ones. Danny was a tall, brawny athlete so it was no surprise he was Jackson's second-in-command, in a way. Jackson was the team's captain and Danny was his friend so it was what everyone called him. Danny had dark, stylishly quaffed hair that Patch seemed to enjoy ruffling. His skin was honey smooth and zit-free. Patch tapped Danny's dimples as he grinned coyly. Was Patch trying to distract Danny from gossiping because he knew it was making me uncomfortable? No. Patch wasn't that considerate. Was he? He seemed to be around Danny but he's said so many times he wants to protect me. I've never thought he'd want to protect me emotionally.

"But nobody knows why. Yet." Lydia said.

"I heard," Jackson started, "That he was framed for something because he just got here."

"Doesn't seem accurate." I blurted out.

"So the Sheriff had no leads and he blamed the guy that just walked into town?" Vee asked.

"Seems legit." Danny quipped. Patch stayed quiet. "Or it could be related to the fire that happened ten years ago." Danny added.

"The only way we'd really know, without it being released to the public yet, would be to get it from the Sheriff himself." Lydia said.

"And since that's impossible..." Danny said.

"We get it from his son." Lydia finished. Jackson looked from the two of them then rolled his eyes. It looked like this was a daily occurrence. The clicking relationship between the two: Lydia and Danny, didn't seem forced at all. Sure they were connected by her boyfriend and his best friend, but the way they seemed around each other was too laid-back to be all-dependant on Jackson. It reminded me of mine and Patch's relationship. It clicked within the second he stepped up to me.

Patch leaned over to straighten Danny's collar. His fingers brushed over the skin under it and stayed there longer than necessary.

"No-can-do. We've already tried that." Vee said with failure forced onto her face.

"We have?" I prepped.

"Yes." She said through gritted teeth. "We have, remember Nora. I tried and he said he'd only tell _you_."

Patch gripped the back of Danny's head and furled his fingers in his hair. He gave him a slow, hot kiss. Patch pulled away so Danny had to lean in. It gave Patch the assurance that Danny didn't want to break the kiss. One of Patch's eye crept open to look at me. He was shutting Danny up in the nicest way possible. The rest was up to me.

"Let me give it a shot." Lydia said. "He's had a crush on me since, like, forever."

"But he said he would only tell Nora." Vee interjected before Lydia could stand.

"Alright, fine. So why doesn't Nora try?" She turned her thin-lipped smile to me. Her gaze slit with anger, being played like a cat would with a mouse between its paws. She could tell too, dropping the airhead act for a split second. Jackson was too bored to care, talking quietly with Elliot about lacrosse. Danny seemed to be as confused as Lydia, but not angry, seemingly distracted by Patch.

"Because... she's..." Vee stuttered. Operation failed, abort the mission, we've been made! Her eyes flicked over to Elliot, sparking meaning to Lydia.

"Oh!" She sighed. "Nora's with Elliot." She said, grabbing his attention. Jackson looked down at his plate. As I turned to look at Elliot, Jackson's thigh touched mine for a second. He flinched away from it, apologising in a hushed voice. At least he had some principles.

"What?" Elliot asked, innocently.

"I just asked Nora if you two were together." She said, even though she hadn't really asked. Elliot looked flushed for second, cheeks red and vibrating with his increased heartbeat. He had nice shoulders.

"It's all really new." Vee said which seemed to grant closure to Lydia. Elliot smiled at me, awkwardly, from across the table. I smiled back. Vee laid her elbows on the table to prop up her head on her hands as she stared at Jackson. When his head snapped up to meet her gaze, she said, "Speaking of new, Jackson how do you feel about Scott making first line?"

"It doesn't bother me." He said, too quickly, too evenly. "Do you think it should?"

"No, I think you could easily crush him. How did he manage to break your arm?" She asked.

"Lucky shot." He replied.

"You're slings gone." Vee noted.

"Yeah, doc said its best for me to sit out the game just to be careful but it wasn't a serious injury." He said.

"Good." She said. "I know how good you are with your big arms."

"Just by watching me?" He challenged, eyebrow quirked.

"Would be better if I was up close and personal next time you make a big shot." She sighed in a singsong voice. My jaw dropped. That was the last straw. I looked over to Lydia, she was unfazed but had her jaw clenched. Danny was too busy making out with Patch to notice this shameless display and Elliot was awkwardly looking at his lap like I had done before.

As if on que, Marcie skipped along to our table. "Couldn't snag yourself your own boyfriend so you gotta steal somebody else's. That's low, Sky, even for you." She said. Why she insisted on calling Vee and I by our last names was beyond me. Maybe she thought it irritated us. I always related the name Grey to my dad, so it was fine for me. Vee never really cared either. Any time she didn't call her Supersize was a win.

I saw Lydia roll her eyes. "She couldn't, even if she tried." She said.

"You sure?" Marcie teased, picking off a chip from Elliot's discarded plate and dropping it into her mouth. We watched her throat as she swallowed. She licked her lips. "Mm. Salty."

"Hoe." Vee said, under her breath.

"What's that Vee? I couldn't hear that over the lard covering your face." She shot back.

"Marcie, buzz off." Jackson said, more than a little annoyed.

"Yeah, don't you know eavesdropping is what lonely people do when they can't get friends to talk to?" I added.

"Your right, Nora. She doesn't seem to be flanked by her bitches today. Did you take them to the pound?" Lydia piped up. Vee grinned. Elliot was holding back laughter.

"No—"

"Daddy must've done it for her. We all know how much she loves him." I said, cutting her off.

"He must see it as a burden to have such a bitch for a daughter." Lydia said.

"You can talk, brat." Marcie said, almost screaming.

"Difference between you and I Marcie, I have friends my daddy didn't pay for me to play with." Lydia whispered. Marcie made a guttural sound, low in her throat, and stormed off.

"That was awesome!" Vee said.

"She really needed to blow off some steam." I heard Danny whisper to Patch. Vee shut up. She and Jackson exchanged one last sultry smile before ignoring each other for the rest of the day.

"Where's Allison?" Vee pondered out loud. Allison was supposedly Lydia's new best friend. They had been seen together more times than Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt and everyone at this school gossiped about everything that happened. This week's news was still how Allison was the new girl. But not for long, with the game this Saturday soon everyone would be talking about that. Especially after our post on the eZine with premiere pictures of all the star players, including Jackson, Danny and Scott. But that wasn't until later.

"I dunno." Lydia looked around. She stopped looking when her gaze wondered behind her. I followed her line of sight and saw Allison and Scott, lost in conversation. They didn't even look up from their table. Harvey was scolding me silently, not a scowl as good as Vee's but one to match, and Stiles was... he looked green with jealousy. I'm not sure how I felt about that.

* * *

The next day was just as uneventful.

It was the first hour of school when Elliot wondered into the gym in a loose tank top and basket ball shorts. We exchanged pleasantries and he explained how P.E. wasn't mandatory in Kinghorn Prep so the school was trying to cram in years worth of it before graduation. I laughed as he performed a series of moves that looked like a cross between break-dancing and boxing in answer to my "are you an athlete?" question.

We played baseball. I was dreading the moment I was up to bat. Since I was on Elliot's team, against Anthony Amowitz's team, I didn't want to let him down. I made sure he had no illusions as I stepped up to bat. He made sure I knew that it was "all in the hips" as his hands slid down mine and showed me how to swing properly after missing two successive shots. The girl blew a kiss at us and Elliot left, leaving me flustered and uncomfortably hot in the helmet that was about three sizes too big for me.

As the ball left her hand, swirling towards me, I waited until it was a mere twenty centimetres from my face. Elliot's distinct voice was drowned as my bat cracked against the ball and sent it soaring. I ran to second base before I was out.

"Well that was a whole lot of effort for nothing." I said, as I sat on the bench. Elliot dropped down next to me.

"Think of the bright side of things. Silver linings, Nora. You could have been up against Marcie Millar." He said and we both laughed. I squeezed his bicep accidentally. He didn't blush. He held a hungry look in his eyes. "So, um, Nora. Jules asked me to ask you and Vee if you wanted to go bowling next Tuesday."

"Next Tuesday? Why so specific? Why not Sunday, or Saturday after the game?" I asked. I knew that I asked a lot of questions, but they were always valid to me. So I didn't question my gut when it spewed out those questions.

"Er, um, well it just fits our, um, schedules." He tried to keep his cool but lying was not an ability he honed well. I couldn't talk, since I was about as good a liar as he was but at least I didn't stutter. Much.

"What have you two got to do that's so important?" I pressed. I had struck a nerve, I could tell. A muscle twitched in his jaw. His hand brushed my exposed leg.

"I'm still new to this school and there's a few things I need to clear up. About my old school, some things happened then but it's not important. And Jules, being in a private school, doesn't even have the weekends to himself." He said, as quick as lightning, suddenly he was not stuttering. Did it mean he was telling the truth now? "He has Tuesday off because of strike." He finished.

"I'll ask Vee." I said, stretching. "Better yet, why don't you ask her at the game? Meet us in the stalls and you'll talk it out."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's not a no."

* * *

Vee drove me home. I teased that Elliot had asked a really important question she and him needed to discuss tomorrow. She wasn't thrilled that I was keeping it a mystery. She said she'd had enough of those.

"Hi mom." I said, as I shut the door behind me.

"Hey Nora. Snack?" She asked, gesturing to a baguette she had made. I smelled burnt garlic bread.

"No thanks." I took out some chocolate milk I had made yesterday and popped into the fridge, having not finished it. After a while I asked, "Hey mom?"

"Yeah?"

"What was dad like when you two met?" I asked. Something crossed her face. A shadow?

"What brings this up?"

"Just curiosity." I replied.

"He didn't change that much, to be honest Nora. You knew him almost as long as I did before he, um, died."

"Was he ever... bad?"

"Your dad? Why, because he was a PI?"

"No, like in high school. Was he ever a bad boy?"

"No, not to me. He was always my sweet Harrison."

That gave me the courage to pull through. I excused myself and left to my room. Only I stopped halfway. I opened the door to my dad's study. Stealing long breaths I yanked open the same drawer I had before to pull out a file.

I skimmed the page. It told me the only three reported survivors of the fire were Derek Hale, his older sister Laura and his catatonic uncle Peter. Peter was left severely burned because of the fire and catatonic because of it. Laura and Derek had not been home when it occurred. Tears sprang to my eyes. I jammed the folder back in and shut the door silently.

I felt numb. There wasn't another word to describe how I was emotionally and physically distant from everyone else on Saturday. Around me, in the stands, they cheered and jumped. I sat motionless with a look of impending doom on my face. Vee saw the bags under my eyes but didn't question me any more than she already had when I told her I went into my father's study. She hugged me and said "Little steps, Nora."

Everything was planned with Elliot. Vee was ecstatic to see Jules again. It was all she could talk about when they started the game. She wasn't even fazed when Marcie lead her sleazy cheerleaders, blowing kisses to Jackson who was on the bench beside Stiles.

A stem of jealousy spiked through me. I thought if he gave Derek more attention than me, what was to stop him from doing the same to Jackson or any other guy or girl? Was he just not interested? It seemed to me that Friday he was bothered by me and Elliot. Was he planning his retaliation?

Scott's mom was watching, I noticed. He wasn't playing well. Most people were avoiding him. Danny tried to continue to pass to him but he was mostly in goal. At one point, Lydia forced Allison to raise a sign that read Jackson's #1.

Allison's dad was there too, sitting awkwardly beside his daughter's too-eager best friend. When Scott scored, the teams were now drawing. Jackson went up to play for the ball. Scott got the ball and scored again. I would have been more impressed but the timing wasn't right. He rushed off the field and left Allison standing confused on the pitch.

Vee pushed me to go to Stiles but I thought it looked rude with Elliot sitting right beside us. The crowd dispersed with the team, Vee and Elliot along with them. I told them I'd meet them soon. That I was one step behind them. I wasn't.

I crouched low in the stands so he couldn't see me when he made his way across the pitch. Jackson picked up a glove, bending at the waist, and fiddled with it. For the life of me, I couldn't see what was wrong with it. I wasn't a lacrosse enthusiast but I thought I would be able to tell if something was defective on a glove.

When he turned to stare off in the distance I caught it. Holes puncturing each finger, making tiny shreds. Like talons. Like claws. But not like fingernails. They weren't human fingernails. Whose glove was that?

Jackson's face twisted into a mask of confusion. He looked up and caught my eye. I started to get up from my ridiculous crouch – I was starting to listen too much to Vee – but then something else happened. Something that caused me to duck back down and watch Jackson's handsome face contort with more confusion that had already been spilled onto it.

A pure white puff blew out of Jackson's nose as he cocked his head to the right to stare at a figure who stood in the middle of the pitch. He was in all black. His legs were spread apart and his hands were in his pockets.

Derek Hale stared at Jackson for a long time. I felt a motherly urge to protect Jackson, to fend off Derek with tooth and nail, until Derek turned and casually strode away. Without any explanation whatsoever I flew onto the pitch and squeezed Jackson into a hug.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3: PACK MENTALITY

Since I bailed on the after party on Saturday after the big game, Vee made me promise to go shopping with her for our big date on Tuesday. The idea was a little less than thrilling, but it only dampened my mood to hear about Harvey. She was leaving on Wednesday for Portland. My heart stung for her and the ghost of my father, his essence and his gift to my mother both trapped there.

I wrote a short poem before leaving to meet Vee at the mall. It was about Harvey leaving. It wasn't my best work, but all artists think like that. Vee was at the food court, an empty tray gathering dust in front of her. I frowned.

"Were you waiting for me to eat? 'Cause I'm not that hungry." I told her, slipping into the seat opposite her. She flinched as she looked at the tray. I raised a questioning eyebrow. Bashfully, she raised a rumbled McDonalds takeout paper bag. "Vee!" I scolded. "The diet?"

"I know what you're going to say, babe. I disappointed myself, I was doing so well, the diet was so easy. Yeah, yeah, you try the colour wheel fruit diet if you think it's so easy. After a while you just start having these... cravings." She licked her lips for emphasis.

"Whatever." I said. "So, where do we go first?" Shopping with Vee was always a little depressing. Not for me, with my sticklike limbs, small breasts and wide hips. I fit into practically everything that hung onto me. But Vee was a different story. She wasn't overtly big. She was just bigger than most sixteen-year-olds.

"I actually wanted to go buy some lingerie."

"Sounds good."

We left for the closest clothing store around. The door rang with a little bell tied to it as we passed the threshold. Vee made a guttural sound, low in her throat, as a woman shouldered past her. The woman rounded the cash register to pluck up a nametag.

"Vee, c'mon." I dragged her by the elbow as she scowled at the woman, Annie, with pursed lips and flaring squinted eyes. "What's with you today?"

"I'm irritable." She said, stroking the material of the lined-up bras as she walked by.

"That's a personality trait." I corrected. "It doesn't explain why you're so bitchy. I thought your time of the month was last week."

"Yeah it was. Wrong side of the bed." She lifted up a cheetah-spotted bra tangled with spaghetti straps. I cringed. She sighed, rolling her eyes and stuffed it back on the shelf.

"Can't believe your dressing up for Jules. Last time he acted like you had committed adultery with his father."

"There's a disgusting image." Vee said, walking around to grab a velvety black sports bra.

"Point is: he wasn't happy to meet you."

"Yeah, well, that'll change this Tuesday won't it? He'll probably apologise for being such a snooty douche at Enzo's and we'll have big bowling fun." She said, putting the bra back. We went to the row across from us, the one for ladies not teenagers. "Think this'll hold my babies together?" She asked, lifting up a larger sized screaming red bra with matching panties.

"Mm." I mumbled, searching the rack for anything smaller. I pulled out the same bra, with the panties strapped into the packaged deal, two sized smaller. "This'll do."

"I don't want a uniboob. And, believe me, that's what happens when I wear bras a few sizes too small. I won't be offended babe, I mean what other teenager has boobs bigger than mind – that aren't stuffed?"

I put back the bra. "You're right. Sure, take that one. It's sexy enough, if you're planning to paint your nails red, I mean that wound match."

"And maybe I'll wear a white shirt over it so it'll stand out." She said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "We just need to find you something..." She trailed off, skimming for that sports bra she had.

"I'm really not dressing to impress, Vee." I whined as she brought out a lacy purple bra. "Besides," I said, taking it from her and putting it back. "Purple is not my colour."

"Fine. I'll go find something more sensible." She said, mocking me clearly but the suggestion wasn't hurtful itself. I looked around, bored for the time Vee had left to fetch me her idea of a "sensible bra". There were few customers in, but that was just because I wanted to get an early start on shopping with Vee. Like I said, it wasn't always easy with her.

My phone buzzed just when Vee came back with a gorgeous ivy green bra with a leafy-looking strap that hooked at the front. "Perfect." I said. "If you pay for these, I'll get lunch... never mind." I said, reaching out for my bra.

"No, no. I'll buy it for you, babe. But you'll buy me makeup next." A twinkle glittered in her eye. She was famous for her perfectly applied makeup, it covered every blemish on her skin perfectly. She tried to teach me how to apply it a few time but I never caught on. I went for a more, just-out-of-the-shower-wet approach.

As she went to the counter, glaring at the woman who had budged her out of the way, I checked my phone. I had two texts from Jackson since, about, ten minutes ago. Jackson had driven me home yesterday after the game. We got to talking and found out that, besides the whole jock thing, there was a sweet human being under his masquerade. Exchanging numbers, we had been texting ever since.

HOW DO GIRLS SHOP? He asked.

I texted back: WITH THEIR BOYFRIENDS OR JUST IN GENERAL?

WITH BOYFRIENDS He answered.

WE GLARE AT THINGS UNTIL YOU OFFER TO BUY THEM FOR US. LYIDA TRYING?

SUCEEDING, I'VE DUG A WHOLE OUT OF MY CREDIT CARD BIG ENOUGH FOR ME TO BE BURRIED IN :'(

When I laughed out loud a shadow fell over me. Vee stood there, arm outstretched holding a bag. I took it, peering in and mentally checking off the list of requirements for shopping. Bra, with receipt, for Tuesday, check.

"What's so funny? Someone really old who composed Baroque?" She teased, tongue sticking out.

"Just Jackson." I replied, swiping away a reply composed of a sympathetic smiley face. A series of emotions played out on her face until she shoved them all down. "Everything okay?" I asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah, it's fine." She lied. "Makeup?"

I nodded. We made our way to the store a stone's throw away from the one we had just been in. Immediately, Vee thrust her bag at me and began fluttering over the blush, concealer, lipstick, mascara and everything else that was scrawled all over the glamours, elegant store. I sighed and checked my watch. We had been in the mall, well I had, for twenty minutes. I wouldn't walk out of here until about thirty minutes later. A Britney Spears song played overhead, unknown to me.

Sighing, I plopped down into a seat pushed up against a full body mirror. Gingerly rubbing a smeared drop of lip gloss from the corner of my mouth I shook with horror as I looked up. Punching him in the arm as he laughed I screamed, "You scared the crap out of me, Jackson."

One last chuckle slipped out before he stole himself and pulled his face together again. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." He muttered, then threw his head back and started sputtering apologies. Checking the mirror I saw that my thumb had gone over my top lip and smeared the lip gloss over my nose, rubbing it off my bottom lip. I could taste it. I cringed. "Let me." He murmured, swiping the rest of the lip gloss away with the pad of his thumb. It travelled over my lips twice before he rubbed it off on his jeans. "You actually look better without it." He commented, nonchalantly which made me blush lightly.

"So where's Lydia?" I asked, as he took a seat next to me on the blocky plush cube. He was so close I could smell his rich and heavy aftershave. His buttoned down shirt left a triangle of pale chiselled skin to be seen. I didn't steal a glance, boldly looking for a millisecond too long I looked up into his popping blue eyes.

"Right," He pointed across the aisle to a narrow stack of shelves full of hair products she was sandwiched between, "There." He said.

"What have you bought her?"

"Everything's she's holding."

I raised my head, just enough, to see that she had more than three bags strapped over my thin arms.

"That's a lot of bag." I observed. He nodded.

"Where's Vee?"

"Right," I said, mimicking him and pointing to the makeup section, "There." I finished. She caught my finger and looked up from her concentrated stare. She waved. I waved back, Jackson did too overtly eager to ridicule us. She rolled her eyes and resisted flipping him the bird. "All that stuff looks the same to me."

"That makes you more guy than girl." He teased, elbow grazing my breast. He flinched. "Sorry about that. It's what us _guys_ do." I couldn't help but snort some laughter, for his sake. Vee wandered out of my line of vision.

"Are you happy that you won your first game of the season yesterday?" I asked, trying to be social. A woman with struggling twins in a shopping cart passed. One of them, the girl, dropped her doll. Before she could start bawling, the woman stopped. Jackson bent down, groaning, to pick it up. His shirt lifted a few inches up over his back to show the ridges of his spine. I avoided looking at the grey boxer briefs that peeked out.

"Here you go, ma'am." He said, flashing a smile that knocked the woman off her feet. She flustered, thanked him, took the doll, felt up his bicep, gave the doll to her daughter, thanked him and left. I was frowning by the time he waved goodbye to one of the twins. "What?"

"Why does every woman think you're a piece of meat?"

"'Cause I'm hot." He joked, knocking his knee against mine again. Seeing my expression he blew out a sigh. "It's just something I got from Mom and Dad."

Jackson was adopted. He had never met his real parents. Other than that, I knew nothing more than what was said about his home situation. Save for the fact he was rich. Everybody knew that.

"Wish I'd gotten that from my Mom and Dad." I said, knocking my panty hose-clad knee against his. A soft smile touched his face gently. I didn't mention his adoption and he didn't mention my dad's death.

"You're plenty pretty. And I'm very happy we won the game yesterday." He said, slowly.

A moment of silence ticked away. "Can I ask you something?" I turned my whole body towards him in a half-circle, making it seem more important than it was.

"Isn't that what you were doing before?" He asked, pressing his tongue to his cheek. Suddenly, I wanted to kick myself. I didn't want to be one of those girls that melted at the sight of a hot guy, but it was definitely hard. Especially since hot guys seemed to be bungee jumping in front of me now. I gave him the best Vee-scowl I could, which only made him laugh, and rolled my eyes.

"Be honest. In all seriousness, why do you hate Scott?" That was the burning question flying around the school for some time now. Jackson was the captain of the lacrosse team. An addition to it, and a remarkably good one too, should have had him thrilled. Instead it was rough barks back and forth between them. It wasn't what you would call friendly rivalry either. It was slamming-up-against-lockers-full-throttle-style. It put mine and Marcie's ongoing rivalry to shame.

"He's – he's just a punk, okay?" A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw. He leaned forward, narrow shoulder taut. I sighed, banging my head against the wall with a thud.

"Look Jackson, I didn't mean—"

I was going to say, "I didn't mean it like that" but he cut me off.

"Promise me you won't publish this on the eZine?"

"I promise." I said, leaning forward to hear better, looking a little too eager. He sighed too, longer, and looked down. Then he cast his head up, canted his fingers through his perfectly cut hair, and thudded against the wall beside me. Vee popped into view, beside Lydia, seemingly giving her advice on something. Lydia grinned at her.

"It feels like he's taken away something that belongs to me." He said. His eyes, his face, his voice all rang true. There was nothing insincere about what he said. He was telling my God's honest truth but I just couldn't wrap my head around it.

"What about good sportsmanship?"

"Nora." He said my name like it was a blessing and a curse. But he didn't stop there. I was regretting having answered. "I had everything."

"You still do!" I protested, hating the way he was opening up. I wasn't ready to handle the many faces of Jackson. I couldn't deal with being the only person he could open up to when it was hypocritical to me, as a person. If you thought about it, what did it say about my character? It said I was a coward.

"How?" He pressed.

"You have the girl everybody wants, Lydia freaking Martin! You have the Porsche everybody drools about. You have the looks, the athletics. Everything for you is cut down to perfect size and detail."

"But all that stuff was given to me." He huffed, getting redder. He rubbed the back of his neck, nervously. "I was given all that, the money, the perks, the looks."

"Even the girlfriend?" I teased.

"Arranged marriage." He added, giving me a knowing smirk. I breathed a phony laugh, darting a look at Vee, drunk and giddy off of all the attention she was getting from Lydia. It occurred to me then, that I hadn't been the best friend of all time. I was so enraptured by my own silly problems I hadn't even paid attention to what was going on with Vee. I even made fun of the fact she was excited to go on this date, embarrassing her by telling her the boy who asked her out on it was paying no attention to her! This day was even cut because of Jackson and Lydia and it was all the time we had had together for a while now, excluding eZine nights.

I mentally kicked myself and popped an iron pill. It didn't have its normally relaxing effects, not that it was a relaxing drug. Usually knowing my body didn't need more iron for the day relaxed my mind. Ms. Morrell called it wishful thinking, that all my problems would go away with one magic pill.

"No. Lydia's only interested as long as I am team captain." He said.

"Are you afraid Scott's gonna steal your glory? Your free ride to college?" I asked. That was everybody else's theory. Jackson was afraid of a dark horse. I wanted to put it to the test.

"I didn't even think about that." He said. Guilt glued my internal organs together. I opened my mouth for an apology but left it a silent _o_ as he continued. "I worked hard for my position on the team. It seems like..."

"What? What!"

"Like Scott didn't even earn his. It seems like he got good over night and now..."

"You're not the star anymore." I barely whispered. I was surprised I was audible enough for him to hear me. His only acknowledgement of what I said was a simple nod. I thought about rubbing his back like I had seen at my dad's funeral, but then thought about how weird that would look.

"You know, just because Scott's good doesn't mean he's better than you." I said, hoping I didn't sound as prayerful as I did in my head.

"Yeah, right. Did you not watch the game at all last night?" He asked, rhetorically. He had seen me there. Especially afterwards. I glanced at Vee again. She was moving towards the line at the counter, flanked by Lydia.

"I gotta go," I said, scooping up the bags into my arms. "I promised Vee I would pay for the next, um, store we hit." I said, partly as an excuse. He looked shocked but it drained away from his face as soon as I got up.

"Um, sure." He said, awkwardly rising too. "Lydia probably needs help carrying the million bags she's holding." Guess he didn't understand the term "fast getaway". I knew what was coming next and I didn't want to talk about it. It was the furthest thing from my mind right now, and that's what it was supposed to be. But not for anyone else. Jackson and I had clammed up about it until now, but the cap he screwed onto his lid was popping now. Maybe it was because we were alone.

I rushed my pace to reach Lydia and Vee, patiently waiting in the line to the counter and chatting fluently, as to avoid Jackson's inevitable questions about Derek Hale and the glove from last night. We hadn't even talked about it on the ride he gave me to my house. It was mostly awkward silence.

Luckily, but ineptly, we ran into Elliot half way there. He grinned as he saw us coming towards him. He imposed on the way, taking a step back from his pace down the aisle to stand between us and the counter. His face broke apart into a smile. "Nora!" He greeted, waving his hands out of his pockets. I ignored the look Jackson gave me as I mumbled a quiet reply.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, making my voice sound polite and cheery. I wanted to give off the impression I was glad to see Elliot, so Jackson would leave us alone.

"I'm... meeting a friend." He said. "Who's this?" He nodded towards Jackson, who stepped forward to outstretch his hand.

"This is Jackson Whittemore, he's a friend. Jackson, this is Elliot Saunders." I explained. They shook hands. They were clutching each other a little too hard, the skin on their hands turning a little too yellow, and sizing each other up when I cleared my throat. When they broke apart a cloud of relief swarmed over both their faces.

"Jackson, Vee and I are going on a date Tuesday with Elliot and his friend, Jules." I explained. I wanted him to understand that if we were going on a date, we were comfortable enough to be around each other. He still didn't leave. A beat passed. Vee and Lydia moved up two spaces in the queue.

"What are you doing on Tuesday?" Jackson asked.

"Bowling alley." I said.

I looked down to shuffle my feet. "Well I should let you get back to Vee." He said, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "Say hey to Lydia for me, Jackson. It was nice meeting you." He added, brushing past his shoulder. It wasn't a gesture that was necessarily obstreperous but was truculent.

Jackson and I made our way to the queue in a comfortable pace. "Kinda weird that he knows Lydia and I've never heard of him." He muttered, which was unruly for a guy like Jackson. Jackson spoke boldly and confidently because he had no one to restrain him and nothing to hide. Everyone knew he was a jerk, but they had to scratch the surface of his character to really appreciate and understand him. Which was why everybody was so shocked when they learned that Lydia had won him over. She was hot, sure, but acted like an airhead for him. I really didn't see why, either, but she refused to talk about it even to Danny, Jackson's gay best friend. Jackson put up this mask to hide himself behind. You had to bomb the walls he built to get past it. Lydia didn't seem like the type of girl who had the artillery to handle it. The brains to build it, but not the hands needed. Her's were manicured fingernails.

Marcie, on the other hand, could easily enrapture, seduce, and break apart a man. We had all seen it before with countless guys; Leon Black, the bulkiest yet nicest guy ever, Kane Richards, the brainy dork she whipped into doing all her homework, Anthony Amowitz, a hopeless romantic who sees nothing wrong in telling inappropriate sex stories at Lydia Martin's parties and even Vee's ex-innocent brother, Jake Sky. That's part of the reason she hates him. She broke her brother's heart and stomped all over it in six inch heels. But it was earth-shatteringly surprising to know, to Elliot anyway, that Marcie had her talons hooked into me instead of her actual competition; her prettier, nicer, brainer doppelgänger: Lydia Martin.

"You two are the power couple of Beacon Hills High." I said, nonchalantly.

"He's only been there a few weeks." Jackson countered.

"It only takes a few weeks to know the ropes."

"Well how 'bout the fact he didn't even look behind him to know Vee was in the queue."

"He knows Vee and I are friends." I responded, logically. What was he getting at? That Elliot had eyes at the back of his head?

"So how did he know Vee wasn't near you? Or close enough by you that he couldn't tell her 'hi' himself?"

"He couldn't see her." I shot back. I stopped, deadpan, in my tracks. Or could he? Was he stalking me? Did Jackson scare him away?

"Then how did he know we were headed towards her? He wasn't close enough to the queue to see her." He reasoned, gesturing with his hands. They flopped back down to his sides.

I started walking again. "I'd be more concerned with Lydia right now. How does he know her?"

Jackson looked thoughtful as we walked. We reached Vee and Lydia, who just finished paying. They walked towards us. Jackson was leaning against the wall opposite them, ankles crossed, swiping away at his phone. "Are you gonna ask her about it?" I asked. He didn't answer. He enveloped Lydia in a big hug.

"Jackson!" She squealed. The laugh lines written across her face gave her away: she loved every second of attention he gave her.

Vee scolded me. "You didn't pay." She said, making a clicking noise with her tongue. I fished a dollar bill out of my wallet and handed it to her, stopping her incisive tsking. "You didn't even look at what I bought." She said, thrusting the bags at me open-handedly. I peered inside and smiled, but stepped towards Jackson. Vee frowned.

"So, Lydia, we passed Nora's friend just now. Goes by the name Elliot Saunders. You know him?" Jackson asked, leering his arm wound around her waist. He didn't beat around the bush, at all. He just dove head-first into the ice-cold water.

Lydia cringed. "Elliot? Yeah, I mean I guess I know him. Our parents were friends in high school, before the divorce." After her parent's divorce all Lydia's mom could talk about was how it had "warped" her. Apparently, her dad forced her to chose who she wanted to live with instead of letting a jury of her peers decide who was best fit for her. She chose her mom. Now she doesn't see much of her dad, who only expects the worst from her. Boy, was he wrong. "He got kicked out of Kinghorn Prep, right?"

"He told me his parents couldn't afford the tuition anymore." I protested, feeling colour start to flood my cheeks. Vee stepped towards me, ears pricked to listen intently. Her presence, her uneven breath on the back of my neck, was somewhat an encouraging enforcer to my hummingbird heart.

"He lied." She said bluntly, pressing a palm flatly against Jackson's chest and pushing away. The bags slipped down her arms. Jackson scooped them up. "The big scandal was that he got kicked out of Kinghorn Prep."

"How?" Vee asked.

"This isn't going on the eZine, Vee." I hissed.

"Well, I only know the rumours." She paused, eyes flicking towards Vee and slitting back towards mine. For effect? "This girl he had been seeing, Kjirsten Balverstone or Halverston, was killed on campus." She paused again, waiting for someone to gasp. I leaned forward, bending intently. She continued. "Her body was found hanging from a tree. The police arrested Elliot. He was their only suspect." She added quickly, jumping to his defence upon seeing our faces. I looked over at Vee. The colour had drained from her face, she looked sickly pale. "But when a suicide note was found on her dresser by her roommate, and at the time Elliot's best friend's girlfriend, he was let go. But the school didn't want his bad press. They forced him away."

"So no charges?" Vee asked.

"Nope. It was ruled a suicide." Lydia agreed.

Jackson and I shared an unravelling look. A knot at the pit of my stomach twisted deeper into itself, roiling. "You hungry, Nora? Jackson and I were just about to grab lunch. You and Vee should join us." Lydia offered.

"Oh, that's okay we were just—"

"Nora, please, we just got here. We'd love to join you." Vee said, formally and oddly polite.

Lydia beamed with delight. Taking Jackson's arm she strode the way to the food court. "Didn't you already eat?" I whispered to Vee.

"Shut it." She warned.

* * *

School started the week again. Life wouldn't be life without school, Mom reminded me as she rushed me to my car with half my breakfast off my plate. The other half would go down her gullet, but she didn't want me knowing. She also didn't think I knew.

Vee and I hadn't talked about Elliot's ordeal with Kjirsten. But I was so sick of not talking about things that it just came out without me even thinking about it. "Do you think he did it?"

Vee pushed open the door into the school with her elbow crossing the bar. "Who? Did what?" She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Elliot. Do you think he killed Kjirsten?" I whispered. She glanced at me from sideways.

"Why are you whispering?" She asked. I didn't know the answer so I didn't reply. I just pressed on my former question. She shrugged, sighing as she slammed her locker retrieving a chemistry textbook for Mr. Harris's class.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I think that if the police ruled it a suicide, it's most probably a suicide. Why, you think otherwise?"

"The police have been wrong before." I supplied.

"Usually, I'm the one spewing unrealistic crap like that." She said. I rolled my eyes. "And I usually do that, better than you do actually. Should I teach you?"

"Vee! Next thing you know you'll be trapping me in a classroom with scolding 101 written on the board." I mocked.

"Don't give me any ideas." She said. "Name me three people the police have been wrong about before, not that the Fed aren't usually wrong. Freaking pigs."

I decided to ignore her mockery of a Latino accent and counted on my fingers as I recited. "Gerry Conlon, Alfred Dreyfus and Dewey Bozella."

"Okay, Gerry was convicted because the police fabricated evidence. I don't even know who Alfred is but he's Batman's butler so I trust him. And Dewey lived in a rough neighbourhood, the witnesses were known criminals and probably made a deal to be free of charge if they helped lock him up." She said. In all fairness, she made some excellent points. Why she had never signed up for the debate club was beyond me. But that wasn't the point.

"Doesn't it seem a little fishy that Kjirsten's suicide note was found by Jules's girlfriend?"

"What makes you think Jules's girlfriend found it?" Vee asked.

"I dunno, I just assumed it was Jules. He could've had another best friend before being kicked out but I never actually gave it much thought."

"Exactly. You wanna know why? You have trust issues." Vee said, sharp as a knife. It stung. That a blow way below the belt to me, especially after I had spent hours bitching about Ms. Morrell telling me the exact same thing. I scolded her. A scold she told me she was proud of.

"You're not being a very good best friend right now, Vee." I whined.

"I'm being a very good best friend because I'm helping you out. Lydia's story did freak me out too, but since her suicide note was found I think you have nothing to worry about. Jules wouldn't have his ex-girlfriend fabricated to free his best friend." She said. The trust she put into her words raised red flags to me. Her use of _ex_-girlfriend also didn't run past my processor smoothly.

"Vee." I said, a touch of sadness clouding my eyes. "I would do it for you." She didn't have to say she'd do it for me to, I knew it. But it was nice hearing it.

"But we can't assume the worst. Promise me you won't bring it up tomorrow and kill the mood." She begged, more with her eyes than with her words. I understood Vee really liked Jules. Maybe it was the bad boy get-up she needed or the fact he was "tall enough" for her. I knew she would work extra hard to seize his attention tomorrow and I didn't like it. Jules had shown no interest in her, why did that spark such a flame?

Scott and Stiles clicked open the door ahead of us. I didn't have time to promise Vee any such thing. I rushed forward to stop it from closing before I could talk to Stiles. Vee snagged me around the waist, one hand going over my mouth, and hurled me behind the door as it shut.

My head span, my stomach revolted. Vee's hand stunk!

"Did you see that?" Vee choked, a gasp caught in her windpipe. I was trying hard not to let the little breathless noises divulge out of me. My stomach coiled tightly. The rug had literally been pulled out from below my feet. That's what it had felt like. I could see the dark red splotches imprinted behind my eyelids.

* * *

The door crashed open. Vee and I had risen from our crouch. We pressed ourselves flat against the wall, standing on our toes, so the bys wouldn't catch us. Vee peeked around the edge. She gave me a thumbs up and rounded the corner of the door, keeping it open for me.

I felt sick. Again. Just looking at it. A sheriff passed us, seemingly bored. He didn't tip his hat like Vee expected, or banish us from the premises. Stiles' dad was off behind the yellow police line talking to a blonde woman. Inside the bloodied bus, a photographer snapped pictures that blinded me.

Vee inched closer. I clasped her wrist. "It's a crime scene, you can't cross the police line."

"Watch me." She hissed back. She swung her legs over the police line into the rectangle. I thought about her footprints, on the scene of the crime, but then let it go. Millions of other footprints would be on the school's parking lot. Maybe not so fresh, but still.

The waver of the police line reached the Sheriff. Before he could glance up I had an internal war. One side wanted me to cross the line out of sheer curiosity, the other wanted me to cross the line to not get caught and then go. Choosing the lesser of two evils, I hopped the line and sank my fingers into Vee's shoulder. She looked back at me and smiled.

A man of Asian descendant, wearing blue latex gloves, was standing in front of us examining something. He stuttered. "Sir, do you know what happened here?" Vee asked with pleading eyes and a rough tug on her shirt downwards. A sliver of cleavage flashed at the man. The man with the camera stopped. "Keep them flashing, Peter Parker, or the camera's going around the corner to California. Got me?" She snarled. He nodded. If he stopped clicking pictures the Sheriff would notice something was up. He turned on his heel to flash some pictures of the interior of the bus.

"Y-You shouldn't be here girls." The Asian man said, staring Vee squarely in the eye.

"Think he's gay?" Vee asked, craning her neck sideways to ask me.

"I don't know." I said, voice sounding like a rubber band about to snap. "Just wait here while I get Patch and we can find out!"

Vee turned back towards the sharply dressed Asian man, the toes of her sneakers squelching over his leather shoes. "Listen up! We are students here at Beacon Hills High. We have a right to know if someone from the student body, or faculty, was harmed." She said. Thick red streamers slithered all over the edges of the bus's back door. The actual metal hung, slightly caved in on itself at an awkward angle, on its lower hinge only. The top had been popped off. I steadied myself as a fresh wave of nausea rolled into me.

"Girls, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave the crime scene. You shouldn't even be over the yellow line, can't you read what it says? You could be potentially—"

"Tampering with police evidence, yeah I've heard that line so many times before." Vee snapped. The Sheriff waved a hand at the Asian man. Vee released her scrunched up fist from his shirt. I hadn't even noticed.

"That's reason to be worried." He interjected. The Asian man hurried downstream like a fish. The Sheriff lowered the police line so we could leap over. When both our feet hit the ground he shooed us away with a rumbling warning. "Don't let me catch you again." He warned.

"You won't." Vee said, waving. "Catch us I mean. On a crime scene. Ever again." The Sheriff's smile dissipated. "Ass."

"He's just doing his job." I said.

"You're just standing up to him because he's your future father-in-law." Vee countered, quicker than I could click my fingers. She pushed open the door in time to hear the announcement on the overhead speakers. Funny side note, we were the only school to have student records still in drawers, but we had overhead speakers?

"Attention students, this is your principle. I know you're all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of buses. But while the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled." A low _aww_ spilled out of every student in the hallway. "Thank you."

"I tried not to look at all that blood." Vee said as we walked down the hall and around to our next class. Through the corner of my eye, as Vee continued talking, I saw Jackson fiddling with the loose door of his locker. He tried propping it up flat against his locker but it was... dented. Like the door on the back of the bus.

"Vee, do you see that?" I whispered urgently to Vee.

"What? Jackson's door?" She asked.

"Yeah. It looks..." I noted, but I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Like the door on the bus." She finished. We watched as Jackson snapped at Scott. The actual lock to the door of his locker fell to his feet. Scott, wearing an ugly expression I couldn't decipher on his face, walked off with a shrug. I bent down to pick up his lock.

"Thanks." Jackson said.

Vee and I entered chemistry just as the bell sang. We took our seats together, though, leaving a space beside Harvey. She looked hurt by it but I shrugged and gave her a sympathetic smile. Vee and I took notes while we discussed theories about the door.

"Whoever did it, had to have been a student here." Vee noted, scrawling her pencil across her page. Water boiled behind Mr. Harris's back as he wrote down all the different variables for the experiment we were performing. We were supposed to give their meanings later.

"Not necessarily. Whoever did it could have broken into the school to do the same thing to Jackson's locker. Maybe it's a warning to him?"

"Or maybe there was something the murderer wanted that was inside Jackson's locker." Vee added, with a surreptitious glance behind her. I followed her line of gaze and saw Stiles and Scott talking heatedly. Mr. Harris turned around, dusted off his hands, and put them on his hips waiting for either one of the boys to notice him. Since neither one of them did he called out, "Mr. Stilinski!"

Mr. Harris was a middle-aged man, well into his thirties, with stringy black hair cropped close to his ears. He wore crooked glasses over his aquiline nose and dressed formally in a black silk blazer over a white shirt with no tie and belted dress pants. "If that's your idea of a hushed whisper you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while." Stiles gave a nervous chuckle; his cheek rose slightly but fell as quickly as it had lifted. "I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?" He raised on eyebrow, crinkling his forehead.

"No." Stiles whined, answering Mr. Harris's rhetorical question, sounding like a scared child. Mr. Harris motioned for Scott to sit beside Harvey and for Stiles to sit on the opposite end of the desk with his pencil. Scott ruffled his notes together to clamour to Harvey.

"Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much." Mr. Harris said, earning a fake laugh from Stiles only to aggravate him further. Harvey smiled as she played with her hair, poised pencil ready to write, when he shuffled into the stool next to her. Jackson, one seat behind Scott, was glaring daggers at the back of Scott's head. I tried to smile at him, one table to his left, but he wasn't looking at me.

"Hey, I think they found something!" Harvey screamed. The whole class ripped their chairs back with a sound like nails down a chalkboard, to rush towards the window. When Vee and I reached it, the ambulance men were smoothly rolling a table down to the truck. A man, lay on top of it, wearing black was a little bloodied. Two sheriffs were behind him.

A rip-roaring scream sounded as the man plunged upwards. He gripped both ambulance men, nails clawing into their shoulders, as he jumped and spasmed on the rattling table. The students screamed, as one, flinching and stepping back. Vee crawled closer to the window.

My hand went instinctively to my pocket, where the lump told me the purple powdered pouch was in. It gave me a sense of assurance, knowing it was there. The man's face has been clawed with streaks of red. Scott distanced himself from the small crowd, Stiles followed him murmuring encouragements.

I didn't hear what they said exactly, there was a hive of bees pounding around in my ears. Eventually the class was settled again, shaken, but taking their seats and listening to Mr. Harris again. I caught Jackson's eye as he slipped into his seat. Then I looked towards Stiles who tried a thin-lipped smile. Vee gave me a grim tilt of her lips. All I had wanted, during the time we had all been huddled around the window, was to feel Stiles' cool fingers curling around mine. I couldn't bring myself to grab his hand. Instead, I took comfort in Jackson's warm, solid chest pressing against my back. Vee eventually did take my shaking hand into her's. But it wasn't Stiles'.

* * *

Lunch rolled around. I was still too shaken up to even consider downing food. Vee and Elliot took seats with Lydia, Danny, Jackson and Scott and Stiles. I found a tree outside in a hilly part of the outer school and slumped down on it, leaning my back against it. On my way outside I had caught a glimpse of Ms. Morrell heading to the teacher's lounge. I bolted in the other direction. What she had said, about me and her being the same, had perturbed me more than the rest of the conversation.

That was why she wanted to protect me, I suppose. She thought we were the same. In what way? She was French-Canadian. Maybe I had some ancient roots in one of those two countries.

I brought out my notebook. Flicking to a clean page I started to jot down bullet points. To anyone else, they were nonsense. But nobody besides me, Vee and maybe Patch would see them. The first read Derek Hale. The second read 'the lacrosse glove'. After that Ms. Morrell/protection. Then it went to hallucinations-triskele. I continued to write down anything that had disturbed me from the start of school, including the pouch, my dad's office, Kjirsten and, on the very last line, I wrote down the night of the full moon. I labelled the page, at the very top line, Troubles.

On the next few pages I wrote what I would do to find out about them, stop them etcetera. It was something to pass the time, but I needed to keep count of all these worrisome things. If I was hallucinating because of the powder Ms. Morrell had given me for protection, was it worth keeping? Most of the Troubles tied in with each other. Derek tied in with the night of the full moon and by default Scott did too. The glove had had pieces at the very top of the fingers ripped out, like claws had popped out and the glove had to make way for them. Because of that, I added the glove to the night of the full moon. But it wasn't the full moon when the dropped glove was there. How did it tie-in?

A grunt dropped beside me. I turned to look at Patch, sitting on my notebook. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"Making notes. Why aren't you with your boyfriend?" I asked.

"I don't wanna seem too clingy." He answered, with a soft smirk raising his cheek.

"Yeah, those are the worst." I said. After a while I added, "The people who can't read between the imaginary lines of dialogue too, they're just... rotten." I drawled, hoping to get a dimple, a smirk, an eyebrow raised. Nothing. He was deadpan, staring ahead, pulling blades of grass apart between his fingers.

"What do you think hurt the bus driver?" Patch asked, so close that as he turned his head to look at me, his hair brushed mine. I drew together my brows. In explanation, he said, "A video was uploaded. The guy's a bus driver. Named Garrison Myers."

I gasped. "What? Sound familiar?" That name. Garrison. Myers. Mr. Myers. I had heard it somewhere before. I closed my eyes and tried to envision where I had heard where, where I had seen it maybe. Where I had read it. "Nora?"

"I think my father knew him." I stated, jaw set tight and lips crushed together thinly. It was an expression that left no room for argument. I was sure of it. I had... heard my father talk about him, read it in my father's notes somewhere among the mountain of paperwork he still had in his drawers.

"He used to be an insurance investigator. Maybe he was around when an accident happened at home?" A golden ring shimmered in his scuffled midnight hair. The sun suddenly grew stronger in intensity, syrup-heavy sunlight beams striking down onto us from the heavens. Patch had said all the right words. The sun shining brighter was my metaphorical light bulb.

Insurance investigator. Accident. My father's last accident was his death. His last case was ruled an accident by the insurance investigator: Garrison Myers. The Hale fire.

"You just said all the right words." I struggled to clamour up, gripping a tree branch for help. I didn't look back as I dashed towards the cafeteria. Vee sat with Danny and Elliot, all happily chirping away.

"Nora!" She greeted. "You just missed Stiles."

"I'm not here for him." I said, breathlessly. "Danny, Patch is waiting for you outside. He's leaning up against a tree." Danny got up, dumped the rest of the contents of his tray in the trash, and left to go find Patch, noticing the urgency in my tone.

"Isn't it weird that his boyfriend doesn't even know his real name?" Elliot pondered aloud, oblivious to the terse moment Vee and I were expecting. Vee saw the muscles in my arm shaking as I leaned on the table for support.

"Elliot, do you mind giving us a minute?" Vee asked. Elliot shrugged, leaving without dumping his tray. I scooted it down the table as I took a seat. "You look like you're about to burst. Here." She pushed towards me a bottle of water. I gulped it down, mercifully thankful. I popped an iron pill or two before talking.

"Garrison Myers, the guy who was attacked, the bus driver. He used to be an insurance investigator. Guess what?" I paused for effect, a page from Lydia's book unwillingly taken. "He was the insurance investigator who ruled the Hale house arson an accident."

Vee stared into my eyes for a minute. Then she looked down at the table, forehead creasing and bright green eyes dimming. Was she... scared? She flicked a blonde lock behind her shoulder. "Nora, Derek just came back to town and his sister is dead as well as the insurance investigator who ruled the fire that killed most of his family an accident? I don't think it's a coincidence he's interested in you. Call me crazy..."

"You're crazy."

"But I think that maybe Derek wants a peek at your father's study."

"What you're saying makes sense, and I wouldn't put it past him, but why would he go after me? Why not my mom? Not that I want him to go after my mom."

"Nora, think about it. You're an easier target. Your mom's barely in town because of Hugo." Hugo was my mother's boss. He called in all hours of the day and night demanding workloads from my mother. She had to be employee of most months, if not all twelve. "And you're younger which makes you more naive."

"Couldn't he just break in?" I sounded hopeful, which didn't ring well when you put that tone next to those words.

"He'd need you to unlock the door. Since your dad was a PI, he could've had the door double bolted or something."

I sighed. Vee tapped the back of my hand. "What should we do, Vee? I don't think the police would listen without proof."

"What about his sexual harassment? That's proof enough and Marcie's a witness!"

"I doubt she'd testify."

"We need to find out what the police know about Garrison Myers' attack." Vee said, tapping one finger against her still lips.

"Stiles?"

"No. We need to go to the scene of the crime ourselves." Vee said, gripping her tray with bone white-knuckles. She was every bit as scared as I was this time. Her knife and fork clattered as Vee's arm wavered.

"What are we going to find that the police already didn't?" I asked. Just the thought of those splotches of red, dripping paint on the back door of the bus made me queasy.

"Does every bus driver get assigned his or her own bus?" Vee asked, randomly. I shrugged. "Well, if that bus _is _Garrison's we could find something that proves Derek Hale attacked him because of the fire. You know, for revenge."

"That's a big _if_, Vee. What if we're wrong? What if we're blaming a totally innocent, slightly creepy, older Hale for no reason?"

"Those are big ifs too." She countered.

* * *

Later that day, deep into the wee hours of the night, Vee bounced the Neon down the road. The headlights were on, but she killed the engine as soon as they glimmered the way to a blue Jeep and a boy climbing up a chain-link fence.

"Are you kidding me, right now? Scott and Stiles?" Vee cursed under her breath.

"Who else?"

"Okay, here's the plan. Follow Scott. I'll see if I can distract Stiles."

"How could you tell that was Scott? We saw his back for like three seconds." I whispered in the dark.

"Only he has that butt." She said, wiggling her brows and lightly clicking the door behind her. I rolled my eyes. Trailing her shadow in the dark I waited until she gripped Stiles' car door and sauntered inside. A thin, sharp bolt of jealousy coursed through me. I hated how comfortable she was seducing Stiles. Why did I never get to seduce Stiles? Secretly, I thought that Vee wanted the thrill but wanted the easier job. Or she thought that I couldn't handle it, which was equally as offensive to my ego.

Her phone's blue tinge light up the interior of Stiles' Jeep. She let it stop over his lap and leaned across, a palm against his thigh, to scramble around and grab it. His eyes lingered on her hand, then he thunked his head against the headrest and rolled his eyes heavenward. Vee's eyes met mine and widened significantly.

Scuttling to the gate I waited for a second distraction. I couldn't climb over, the chain fence would make too much noise. I needed to figure out a way around. I looked back to see Vee climbing in the backseat and pulling Stiles by his collar to face her as she pointed at something in the back seat. Tentatively, I struck my hand through a small gap where the door of the chain link fence meet its surroundings. I pried it loose enough for me to slip through, my torso being slashed a little by the sharp edges. A shred limped on a short spike. I ripped it out and stuck it into my pocket. My fingers brushed over the leather pouch.

The songs of the night, the grasshoppers and swaying trees, echoed around me. The bus was pooled in a pale yellow light. The whole area was lit relatively well. I couldn't dilly-dally. I could see Scott's brown mop of hair sticking out of the window. Ducking, I crept to the side of the bus. My black ballet flats didn't clip-clop against the floor, only if I ran. Popping my elbow against the door, I peered inside as it groaned silently weighing against me.

He gasped. I flattened myself against the floor, elbow at my side. The door creaked to shut around me, but Scott didn't look. His feet were planted solidly against the floor, hand curled over the tip of a seat. I crawled on my stomach like a snake higher up the steps. The door moaned louder as it bumped against my thin body. Scott was still, a dark silhouette against an even darker background. Husky, sharp sighs and moans escaped his lips.

I saw his sneakers swiftly move forward, barely making a squeak. Another few seconds passed, silence peeling away until... Scott lurched back. He threw up his hands in front of his face protectively and gave a full-throated yelp. He cowered for a few more seconds, breathing hard like you would after a long kiss. But there was nothing pleasurable about watching, first class, his horrible trauma.

I couldn't understand what he was doing. Frustration gnawed at me like a dog at the end of his leash, barking louder and louder for attention. In the dead silence, my uneven breathing became louder. I clasped my hand over my mouth and kicked up with my feet. The door didn't make a sound. My feet were off the ground and I was high enough to see the back of the bus. My stomach rolled over.

Blood was poured over the floor, the seats, the windows like someone had dripped red paint everywhere. It was dry, but if the light caught it at that sweet angle it looked fresh cherry red.

Scott's breathing evened out. I got the impression he was biting his cheek or deciding whether or not to do something. Tentatively, hesitantly, he stuck out his arm. It was a gesture you would do, approaching slowly, to feed your pet straight from the hand. His fingers curled around the air, gripping tightly.

His head snapped up. He screamed, vocal cords straining, and leaped back. He wheezed, dryly sucking in lungfuls of air, clawing at his stomach. Scott stared at his fingers, head whipping around maniacally, in sheer horror.

Vee pinched my butt. I almost yelped but she slammed down a clammy hand over my mouth and held a finger to her lips. She brushed aside the bus door with minimal effort or noise to let me wiggle through. She took my hand and we dashed away into the darkness. We halted at the chain link fence but Vee wedged aside a large proportion on the other end of the field so Stiles wouldn't see us. It was pitch black, he couldn't have seen us yet. I made sure nothing caught on the thin wires.

"Operation successful?" She breathed, opening the Neon's door.

I slid in, buckled up, and tried to ignore the sound of Stiles' Jeep honking. They couldn't know we were here. If they did Stiles would be a lot madder at me than if he knew we had left him at a crime scene alone.

"Not really." I said, letting how confused I felt leak into my words. I proceeded to tell Vee, with vivid detail, everything I had seen, heard and felt. Only when we were far, far away from Stiles and Scott did I find how weird the night had been. Was Scott hallucinating like me? Was it because he was burned by the powder?

"Honestly, Vee, it looked like he was seeing things. He just kept flinching and jumping."

"Maybe he had something to do with it. Maybe he went in there to clear up his tracks. I mean, we could've had this all wrong. Maybe Derek didn't do anything maybe it was Scott."

"Why would Scott take revenge _for_ the Hales?"

Vee looked thoughtful. "Didn't Derek tell you he was Scott's friend the night he drove you home? Maybe they're partners-in-crime?" She said.

"And Stiles?" I asked.

"Maybe he's in on it." She said, face terse and taut. "I told him my car had broken down and I needed to use his phone. I just called you, like, seventeen times but hung up after the first ring. He let me wait in his car until, you know. They showed up and he started honking. I slipped through the fence to grab you and that was that."

"I hate this." I groaned, pressing the heels of my palms to my eyes, relentlessly. Vee sighed as she made a left.

"I could be wrong Nora." Vee said. She tried to sound soft and comforting but she alarmed me worse than before. She never used my real name. She always called me _babe_. This meant she believed Scott and Stiles were helping Derek execute his revenge. She believed the boy I had a crush on, and his best friend, was helping the man who was trying to slip into my father's study to kill a bunch of people who wronged him and his family a decade ago. "I'm almost never right about these things."

"But it's the only theory that makes sense!" I snapped. Concrete weights bit into my shoulders. The blood-soaked puzzle was finally coming into view. Ms. Morrell and Dr. Deaton, their conversation, Patch and the powder. Everything was blown up into perfect vision, but now that I had it I didn't want it.

I still had burning, lingering questions that didn't make sense. Like, why would Dr. Deaton disapprove of Ms. Morrell trying to protect me if his protégé was helping Derek Hale kill people? Maybe they didn't know how bone-deep it actually sank. But what did Allison have to do with this? I remembered Ms. Morrell telling me to break apart from Vee and go to Scott, Stiles and Allison (presumably to find out the truth). Allison was Scott's girlfriend, but where did she fit in?

"Nora. You're home. I think you're gonna have to sneak in through the window, cause there's no chance your mom's not gonna hear you banging the door to get your key out of the lock again." The farmhouse's front door had a reputation for swallowing the key into the lock and putting up a fight if we tried to get it out.

"She won't come in until tomorrow morning. Hugo sent her into the office the whole day for a last-minute thing." I explained, slamming the car door.

"Tell her he should pay her more." Vee said, backing the Neon up for a U-turn.

"I will." I mumbled.

* * *

School came and went, like the copper coin of a sun rising and fall as it was tossed around in gravitational orbit. My mom had stayed where she was for work. I didn't listen to the message she left on my phone. Dorothea had left half an hour ago and Vee was picking me up for bowling with Jules and Elliot in fifteen minutes.

Vee approved of my choice in clothing, she told me in a text when I had sent her an image of me in the mirror. I was wearing a cosy white cashmere sweater, dark blue jeans and navy blue driving moccasins. I had just gotten out of the shower so my hair was still damp. I didn't use a hairbrush today, I curled my hair around my finger to make loose frizzy spirals. Vee said I looked _almost_ sexy. I had five minutes left to choose what I would wear for makeup. I had narrowed it down to a peach-coloured lipstick or a light rosy shade which matched the blush I had intended on putting on.

Vee honked her horn, staccato-style.

I dropped the lipstick and shut it in the drawer. I had moisturised and shaved my legs. Would that be enough to please Vee? I bounced down the stairs and locked the front door. It wasn't a cold night but I brought my jean jacket with me anyway.

Vee's hair was scraped back into a ponytail high up on her hair with thick blonde curls spilling down around her shoulders. She had golden hoop earrings that glittered under her hair and lengthening dark mascara. Her lips looked dead red, puckered for a kiss, like splattered blood. I mentally kicked myself. We had promised today we would just have fun, nothing else about wild theories and crazy killings. No blood. No powder.

"How do I look?"

"Glamorous." I said, dryly.

"Jealous?" She asked.

"Nope."

"Why'd you go makeup-free?" She asked, when we had pulled up down the road. I rolled up the window as to not ruin anyone's hair.

"I dunno." I answered, lamely. I knew why. It wasn't because I didn't have enough time. I had purposefully sat in front of the mirror with each lipstick weighing on my hands trying to kill the time by imagining me smearing the lipstick over my whole face.

I had gone without makeup because Derek Hale suggested it. I hated myself for that.

Vee pulled up in front of the bowling alley half an hour later. Apparently, Jules had reserved us our own alley. Elliot was wearing a black blazer over a plain white shirt with khaki pants. Jules, who had greased his hair back, was wearing a buttoned down shirt – missing the first five buttons – and tight black skinny jeans with leather shoes. Classy...?

My heart sank when I realised that two alleys across from us were Scott and Allison with Jackson and Lydia. The space between us, the alley separating us, was empty. We could see them and they could see us. Jackson and Lydia waved, but he arched his brows and mouthed _what_ pointing at Elliot. Apparently, I hadn't given him the impression I liked Elliot. Maybe I hadn't been convincing enough. Allison gave me a half-smile and Scott did too. But I ignored Scott completely, I didn't even look at him. Vee rammed her elbow into my ribs.

"It was just a theory!" She hissed into my ear, dangerously low. I looked across to Scott again and met his sweet, dripping chocolate brown eyes. Vee sat down next to Jules and fluidly started talking to him.

I met Elliot at the row of bowling balls. "Know what you're doing?" He asked, lifting up one to inspect it. He fingered the three holes, probing each one, before sitting it back down to join the rest. His eyes met mine, coldly, expecting an answer. I stuttered. "Do you know how to bowl?" He asked, slower, cocking his head to the side with bemusement painting his face.

"You might have to teach me."

"That's no problem." He said back. He took my hand and placed it at the bottom of a hot red bowling ball. He took my other hand and drove my fingers into the holes. "That's how you hold it, one hand under and the other at the side with the fingers in the hole."

I jiggled my elbows to feel the weight. It wasn't as heavy as I expected. I mimed throwing it down. "Boys against girls?" Vee called out, holding the ball like I was with Jules behind her, sitting down with his legs crossed.

Elliot's hand found the curve of my shoulder and squeezed. "Nah, sorry Jules but I think I'll go with Nora." Jules shrugged. Vee spun on her heel and plopped the green ball down onto his lap. "You're up." Elliot whispered in my ear, breath ghosting along the skin below my jaw. Goosebumps ripped through my skin.

I tilted my feet, bracing them apart, as I practiced swinging the ball up and down with both hands. Elliot got up and called out my name. Glancing behind me I saw him swaggering over. Vee was sitting two seats away from Jules, holding a pink ball like it was a Rubik's cube. Jules sighed and crawled towards her without getting up until his fingers were moulding her's around the ball correctly. She grinned, he shrugged.

Elliot's hands warmed my hips. "When you swing you've gotta tilt your hips so the weight goes into your arm." He showed me, taking the bulky ball, cracking out his hip and bulging his arm out. "Got it?"

"Not really."

His hand grazed my stomach, gripping my hip. As he forced my arm to swing back and forth, every time my arm went back he thrust out my hip and went it came back he left me to resume my normal stance. "How 'bout now?" He asked, blowing cool air across my face. I saw from the tilt of his cheek, as he turned on his heel and left, that he was smiling. I wasn't. I wasn't enjoying how touchy he was getting with me. I didn't even ask him to show me. Last time when Jackson was with me he had, in my opinion, seemed more reserved. He backed off. With Jules busy with Vee, he had me all to himself. And that brought back the image of Kjirsten's name on Lydia's lips.

I hit a strike, all the pins tumbled down and my ball disappeared from view behind them. They were cleared away by the wooden block that scraped them into the oblivion behind.

"Nice." Elliot said, throwing his hand up for a high-five. I smacked it and winked at Vee. She couldn't help a small smirk. "Jules, you're up next." Elliot said. Jules looked as interested in bowling as he did in three-day-old meatloaf.

With quick accuracy, he drilled the ball down to knock all the pins away like a gust of wind blowing away a few papers. He turned with a smug look on his face that only disappeared when he mocked Elliot by high fiving Vee. He slumped down into his seat beside Vee, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. Elliot was next.

He smiled at me with his angular face before lifting himself up and patting me knee. He walked casually towards the row of balls. Picking up a blue one and inspecting it, he tossed it low accenting his hip out, winning another strike for our team. Vee grunted. Elliot spun around and threw himself into the seat beside me. Satisfaction bloomed deep in his face.

"You can wipe that grin off your face, mister." Vee commanded. She dug her fingers into a cute pink ball and firmly planted her feet on the wood. Bending her knees she stomped three paces forward before crossing the line and arced her arm backwards. The bal soared through the air until it crashed down, slamming into a bunch of pins. Six remained.

I thought I heard Jackson laughing. I cocked my head to steal a glance and saw him holding a fist before his mouth, shoulders jumping with laughter racking his body.

"Jackson." Allison barked, looking truly pissed. "Mind shutting up?"

"I'm sorry." He said. "I'm sorry. I'm just flashing back to the words 'I'm a great bowler'."

"Nora!" Vee squealed. "You're up." She said, snapping me out of my daze. She had gotten a spare, it seemed. I was almost ninety percent sure Jules had something to do with that. I glanced at the disinterested boy picking at his fingernails as I took my next ball. Scott, through the corner of my eye, I saw flail as he sent the ball to the corner way which led to the abyss behind the pins; missing all of them.

I missed my next two shots on purpose too, to continue watching Allison, Scott, Jackson and Lydia play. Jackson, no surprise, was perfect. He barely missed one pin. Lydia, on the other hand, missed almost every try she had. Allison was average, she scored relatively well but missed hitting a strike. Scott came up again at the same time that I was my go at our game.

"Nora," Vee scolded. "Pay attention." Elliot punched, playfully and not hard at all, my arm. Vee's legs were draped over Jules' lap, much to his annoyance, as she talked his ear off. Elliot had sensed that I didn't want to talk much so he hadn't tried. Much.

I took my ball and sent it crashing into the pins. Scott's glare dragged my attention back to them. As I turned my head and brushed away a curl, I saw him snap back to his own game. Allison fluttered towards him, making Jackson sigh and hang his head over the seat.

I took a second try and hit the remaining three pins scoring mine and Elliot's team a spare. When I looked back, Allison had her hand on Scott's arm. He was looking down, listening and hanging onto her every word. She gave him one last spur of encouragement before rushing back to her seat. Scott's face contorted. He blinked, smiled crookedly, and raised the ball to eyelevel. He swung the ball down hard and fast, scoring a perfect strike. Allison was delighted, clapping her hands together and gasping. Jackson looked confused.

Jules came back, proud of himself. He had scored his second strike tonight. Vee tried to give him a high five but he shook her hand instead, awkwardly. She cleared her throat. "How about we raise the stakes?"

"What do you have in mind?" Elliot asked.

"Losers buy pizza."

"Deal." Elliot said, getting up to snatch a ball. He scored a strike. But I wasn't paying him any attention. I was mesmerized by Scott. He sent each green ball he picked up to the pins scoring perfect strikes. He did so six times in a row. As I watched I numbly played at the same time. I only missed, completely, twice. But I did end up scoring the strike that won me and Elliot the game. Jules growled, I think. Elliot leaped up and encased me in his arms, crushing his lips to my forehead. I felt dizzy and hot, my breasts pressed against his chest for too long, so I broke the hug.

"Jules, Vee, I guess you guys are buying pizza." He said, forming an L on his forehead with his fingers. Jules growled again, untwisting his face from competitive concentration making some excuse about using the restroom. "Meet us at the pizza place." He called out. Jules gave him a thumbs up blindly over his shoulder, not even daring a look behind him.

"Is he a sore loser?" I asked Elliot. Vee bounced up from her seat to join us.

"Everytime he loses. I think he goes in the restroom to kick the crap out of the stall. Pardon my language, ladies."

"Please, don't get all Kinghorn Preppy on us." Vee said. Kjirsten's name burst into my mind again. I took an involuntary step away from Elliot and closer to Vee. It had slipped my mind entirely and that wasn't something that should. "Where are we eating?"

"Pizza place just down there." Elliot pointed. "After you." He said, sweeping out his arms in front of us. Vee mock-curtsied. Elliot stayed a few paces behind us, already accustomed to girl traditions.

"So?"

"So."

"Elliot's totally into you and you were being so rude just staring at Scott."

"I know, and I'm sorry Vee." I said sincerely. "But did you see him?"

"No because I was keeping up our promise." She said. The wind was knocked out of me like I had just been punched. By my best friend. That was a guilt trip and a half.

"He sucked then Allison whispered a few magic words into his ear and he just kept scoring perfect strikes. In a row."

"Like in lacrosse. At first he was a nobody and then he just kept scoring one after another until he made first line." Vee said.

"Exactly!"

"But you still should have been paying more attention to us than to Scott's scoring patterns." She protested. "Nora, you promised." She whined. We passed Jackson playing on an arcade game. I stopped.

"Hey, I'll meet you guys at the pizza place." I said, swatting Elliot's shoulder. Vee shook her head and waited for Elliot. When they fell in line together they walked towards the pizza place talking. "Hey." I said, leaning against the game he was playing.

"Hey." He grunted. The sleeves of his nice sky blue shirt were rolled up to his forearms. I could see veins bulging up against his skin like worms crawling up from his hands. "How'd your date go?" He asked, politely. He pressed against the button to send the ball flying up in the air. I guess the purpose of the game was to score the ball into the net, something he was used to.

"Not so well." I answered truthfully. I wasn't going to tell him why but it was no use lying about it. If he had looked over at least once he would have seen that Vee was mad at me for not even trying to get along with Elliot. Even though he seemed more than willing to try for the both of us.

"Don't like the guy?"

"No, Elliot's great and everything. But... we just don't click I guess. You?"

"Nora, I don't even know the guy. He should at least buy me dinner before we go click anything." He responded, sharp as a knife. I genuinely laughed, caught off guard, then handled myself.

"You know what I mean." I uttered. "How'd your double date go?" Jackson pressed the button again and the ball went even higher. Scott loomed into view.

"Nice shot, man." He said, sounding too eager. Too enthusiastic. Jackson just shot him this deathly glare, letting the game ring and make its noisy sound effects. Scott looked at it, avoiding Jackson's icy eyes.

"Listen, I know we both didn't wanna be here," He said. Jackson slammed the button again. "But the thing is we don't have to hate each other." I felt out of place. I turned to leave but what Jackson said made me stay, hovering slightly and turning to stand on the other side of Jackson so I was nowhere near Scott.

"I don't hate you." Jackson responded, evenly. Looking up from his game he stared into Scott's wooden brown eyes. "I just don't believe you. You know you got everyone thinking everything's fine and normal about you but..." He shook his head. "I know something's off." He said softly, meeting his gaze again. "You cheated tonight."

"How do you cheat in bowling?" Scott asked, flicking his gaze at me and then at Jackson's arm as he pressed the button again, innocently.

"I don't know." Jackson answered. His voice was teetering the line of angry and calm in such a cool manner it seemed... frozen. "But you did." He punctuated with a bob of his head, like he couldn't stress the point enough. "And I dunno if it's steroids or something... weirder. I'm guessing something weirder since it's pretty obvious that you're a freak." He said, looking him up and down in a sweep of cold eyes. Scott never cast his brown eyes up to meet Jackson's again, he was staring at the toe of his sneakers.

"So," Jackson said, forcing Scott to dare to meet his cold, half-shut eyes. "Don't think for a second I'm giving up on finding out what your little secret is." He finished, heat breaking past his icy exterior, in a flush of fast words. He slammed his hand on the button again.

"I don't have any secrets." Scott said between his teeth.

Jackson breathed in through his noise, briefly, before answering like he was saying Scott had to wait before coaxing an answer out of him. "Yeah you do. And here's the other thing. I don't know why but I think whatever it is that you're hiding, you don't want her to find out about it either." At first I thought Jackson was going to bob his head at me. But he looked past me, behind his shoulder, at Allison who was talking with Lydia, tying her shoelaces, a cute purple woolly hat on her head. She looked up, sensing all three of us were now staring at her. Her smile never faded. Jackson pulled the lever back and let it ram back in the button, lighting up the game.

He won.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4: MAGIC BULLET

When Scott left I asked Jackson, "You think that was his glove on the field, don't you?" He nodded. I left to join Elliot, Jules and Vee. They were already eating, which didn't surprise me. I took the slice handed to me by Elliot, not even registering what I was eating. Pepperoni, I think. The rest of the date was successful, according to Vee's standards. Flirting with Elliot harmlessly made me scold Jules for trying to play it so cool with Vee. But she liked it so I kept my mouth shut.

We departed with another oddly toasty warm hug. Elliot was hot, I could feel the heat roll off him in waves. "We should definitely do this again." He breathed into my hair. Through the gap in his shoulder I saw Jules give Vee a friendly one-armed hug and say the same. That made me smile all throughout my dream. My smile fell when I woke up with the pouch glued to my sweaty palm.

I tossed it against the cloud. Thudding, it slid down leaving an imprint of spattered purple dust. I tore the sheets away from my crumpled form. Through the thin walls Mom's snoring was like a car purring softly. I wiped the sleep away from my eyes and wandered into the bathroom.

The handle protested lightly as I turned it. Hot water rained down, crackling as it hit the shiny white floor. I leaned against the porcelain sink, staring at my groggy reflection in the mirror. Dark half circles gaped beneath my eyes, glaring in contrast to my fair skin.

The hot water was refreshing. Groaning as it sluiced down my back I dragged a bar of soap across my chest. Once all the suds were rinsed off my body I proceeded to lather soap into my hair. It was one of the quickest showers I had ever had. With a flick of the wrist the water was off. I peeled back the curtain and grabbed a towel from behind the door.

I wrapped it around me snugly after briefly wiping myself dry. I curled my hair atop my head, still damp despite the towel, and padded softly into my father's study. I made mental note to wipe the wet footprints clean afterwards.

Everything was how I had left it. Dust motes still floated happily around his desk, the photo frames, the walls. It clung to whatever it stuck to like glitter and refused to detach itself from it. Like me and the memory of my dad.

I pulled out a different manila folder from the same drawer that rolled open smoothly. I forced myself to skim it, sitting in his swivelling black chair. Good it wasn't leather, I thought.

I read what I knew. Peter Hale had been the only survivor, but he was catatonic and hadn't moved since the fire. He was registered in Beacons Crossing Home where he was looked after every day by a volunteering nurse called Jennifer.

Derek and Laura Hale had been in school at the time of the fire, so they knew nothing. Although both of their statements involved the Argents as the only known family who'd had a grudge against them. Argent. Allison Argent. But didn't they just move from San Francisco?

A list of the deceased were below. I didn't want to look but my eyes caught Talia and Cora Hale unwillingly. I felt myself gag. All those burnt bones, the ash of the wood crackling. I couldn't imagine a worse death than burning alive. Even drowning had its moment of peace, despite popular belief. You'd fight to keep water out which would feel like your head was exploding but it was worth it to have that second of utter release. Death.

Something stuck out at me. The date of the fire. It was six years ago. Six years. I felt my eyebrows pull together and my brain wrack itself for an explanation. I had heard Stiles, the first time seeing Derek Hale, that it happened over ten years ago. My father died ten years ago. Didn't he?

I couldn't remember much about him, but was it because I was only... ten?

If Derek was still in school six years ago he wasn't much older than me. He didn't go to college, he looked like a college student. The fire was at seven. It doesn't say am or pm, it was written in my father's messy handwriting. School doesn't start at seven. It had to have been pm. He could have been at some afterschool sports session. He looked like the athlete type. Maybe basketball or even lacrosse?

Flipping through some notes I see the ages. Derek was sixteen, Laura was two years older. That puts six years of difference between me and him. I was still sixteen, he was twenty-two.

I slapped the manila folder shut, all its contents safely tucked inside, and jammed it back into its folder. As I padded outwards to my room I made sure to sweep up any wet footprints with the hem of the fluffy white towel.

I sat on my bed, head hung and in my hands. I did not like Derek Hale. I did not like Derek Hale. I did not like Derek Hale. So why was I obsessing over our ages? To make it okay he was trying to seduce me to glance a peek at my father's last ever work case? Because that's what he was trying to do!

Dropping the towel made it lie like a clean, slightly drippy, white pool around my ankles. I kicked out of it. Pulling out the clothes I was going to wear for school, I lay them on the bed. I pulled on some underwear, brushed my teeth and tried to blow dry my hair. When I was finally happy with it I dressed in the clothes on my bed and dropped down the stairs to make some breakfast.

I still pondered about the fire, not Derek Hale, and my dad. If it had truly happened six years ago why had I been convinced that it had happened a decade ago? Was it a self-defence mechanism? It sounded right. Thinking something is further in the past than it truly is to make yourself feel over it. But I wasn't over it. I was picking at the clotted wound, going through my dad's things because Derek Hale was back in town and people were dying.

He'd solve this. I know he would have. If he was still alive, my dad would be on this case and have the murderer cuffed by next month. If only...

If only he had taught me. If only he had showed me how to fire a gun, protect myself with regular objects like keys and pencils. If only he had taught me some detective skills I could use now to figure out who was killing people. If only he had showed me how he did things so smoothly. If only he was still alive, then it wouldn't be so painful. If only he was still alive, then my mom would still be a stay-at-home mom and not have to work so much. If only.

Harvey was leaving today. She had already booked her flight the week before. I still found it inconvenient to have it in the middle of the work week, a Wednesday, and not even finish the school week. But I was only saying that because I wanted her to stay in Beacon Hills. She was moving to pursue her dream of becoming a singer. I had never heard her sing. But then again there had never been so many violent deaths in Beacon Hills before. Things change.

We rode in Harvey's parent's car after school that Wednesday. Harvey was in the middle of Vee and I. We were each grabbing one of her hands. It wasn't as wet as I thought it would be. No one cried. We stayed strong, the three of us, one last time. I was about to inquire if she was leaving because of safety issues but was cut off by her mom when she announced brightly we had arrived.

Harvey hugged Vee and then me. Their hug was longer than I had expected. As Marcie had put it, I was the glue holding them together. I strongly suspected that without me, they wouldn't be friends. For years I had thought that the only reason Harvey put up with Vee was because of me. But they genuinely liked each other. Vee sobbed, only once, when Harvey pulled away and they broke the hug and their holding hands.

When Harvey hugged me the waterworks threatened burst. But as she squeezed into me she crushed them close. It may not have meant it for her, but for me it was like she was telling me to stay strong. _Amidst all this noise, Nora_, I imagined her say to me, _you have to keep the ones close to you closer. Don't let the town drag you under, stay strong. For me. For your dad._

I had never actually told her about all the latest activity going on with me but I sensed that she knew something was off. Harvey wasn't the kind of person that would ask. She wanted you to trust her enough to tell her and not force secrets out of you. She wanted you to be willing to tell her all these things. Looking back, I wished I had told her more. She deserved more, despite her constant crave for high school popularity.

Mom's hand wrapped around mine. She squeezed. I squeezed back. She had insisted she drive us home in case we cried on the way back. I knew we weren't going to cry but it was nice to have a parental figure take us there and back. I felt safer knowing that Harvey was making the journey with her parents away and we were making the journey with my parent back.

Once in the car Vee insisted we go. She didn't want to wait for the plane to take off, like Mom had suggested. She didn't want to give Harvey the satisfaction of knowing we had waited for her. I knew that once Harvey would see that empty parking space she would mouth, pressing up against the window with one hand, _atta girls_. She always had when Vee did something, and dragged me with her, that was purposely out of principle or to annoy Marcie Millar.

The drive home was silent. I flicked off the music my mom had put on. It wasn't her fault that all they were playing on the station were cheesy breakup songs, but I glared at her anyway. Vee was uncharacteristically quiet. I felt the need to fill the void of silence with something, anything, so I brought up the first thing that came to my mind. Dad's office was still fresh, so that was the subject I was choosing.

"Mom? Do you ever think of doing something with Dad's old study?"

My question caught her off guard. An elegantly French manicured finger she was tapping against the steering wheel fluttered. Nervous laughter, a simple chuckle, bubbled out of her throat. "Where's this coming from honey?"

"I had a dream," I lied, "that you were painting in Dad's study."

"I'm not much of a painter, Nora. I wasn't even that good in Art class." She said, modesty ringing. I never knew my mom was good at art, but the way she said it was like the way artists deny how fantastic their work is because of humility.

"You didn't answer the question." I said. When she turned her head I looked away, out the window. I pursed my lips into a tight line waiting for an answer. Vee's breathing was suddenly very loud.

"I was going to wait until you went to college to tear it down." She said, sadly. "I didn't want to put you through that." Mom added uncertainly, seeing my deadpan expression.

"Okay." I said.

Five minutes of silence.

"Why don't you ever talk about him?"

"Nora," She said hotly, tersely, "You know why. He died six years ago. You went to therapy, because of how small you were. I didn't."

"That was your choice." I snapped. "But I hardly know anything about him. Other than the fact you wanted him to go back into accounting."

"How did you know that?" Mom asked.

"I remember you two arguing about it when I was little. It was the first memory of him I had after he died. I talked about it in Ms. Morrell's office."

"Oh, how is she?" She asked, perkily.

"Mom."

She sighed. I could see how tense she was, how uncomfortable, through the stiff line of her shoulders. She took in a sharp breath and let it out again, a trick she learned in yoga to deal with stress, making a whistling sound through her teeth. "Your dad was... very open. Despite his profession he never hid anything from me." She laughed, softly. "I remember the look on his face everything he found out something new on his case. He would just beam at me as he stripped off his brown hunting jacket walking through the door. I always knew when it was coming." She said, steadily. Reminiscing about the memory wasn't something that she needed right now, that was evident by the hard line of her lips, but I did.

"Did you ever help him?" Vee asked. She caught my eye in the rear view mirror. Vee, straining against her seatbelt, tried to move closer towards us without looking too interested. She didn't want to look suspicious but my Mom didn't mind.

"He had his principals, but he never turned down help from those who gave it." She answered. "I remember how he used to tuck you into your cradle, Nora. When he shut the door he'd bring me up to his study and show me all that he had on the case he was working on at the time. He'd ask for an outside view, but he always called mine a civilian's POV in his notes."

"Were you ever scared of him?" I asked. Subconsciously, I was linking my dad to Derek. I knew that they were nothing alike but the idea of... liking him but being afraid of him was different from the love I had grown up around. I wanted to know if that was true.

"Your father? Only when the New England Patriots lost." Whenever they did, he would throw on his green hunting jacket and drag the chainsaw into the Preserve. We still have leftover firewood from their latest defeat. Since then, that I had kept count of, they haven't lost. Not even after he died.

"What about before you were married?"

"I was never afraid of him. But I was afraid for him. I had friends who were married to people on the force. They always talked about how they were scared when they took a little longer to get home or when the news would talk about the latest shootout with the police. I thought about Harrison Grey, respected PI, who swung you on the swing-set and asked how he should crack an egg before he'd make me breakfast in bed.

"I don't know. I guess I was too into the idea of love to be scared of him those first few months we were together."

"You weren't in love with until after a few months? Why did you keep seeing him?"

"I wasn't in love with him until after I was married." She interjected. "Only about a year later did I realise I was in love with him, finally. I thought I was in love, Nora. I was willing to stick around and make it work, despite being scared for him and despite how dangerous his job was afterwards. I was willing to do it all, to be the wife of a PI, for love."

* * *

Mom dropped Vee off and then made it home in record time. I didn't even count the ten blocks between our houses like I usually do because of how fast she was going. When I popped open the door of her car she was already standing in front of me. I pushed back until the backs of my thighs hit the door shut.

"What's up?"

"I know why you were asking me all those questions in the car, Nora. I'm not an idiot you know." She said, pressing the keys of the farmhouse into my palm. I walked beside her up the step.

"You do?" A cold shiver trickled up my spine. Had I left water prints on Dad's chair?

"A boy." She said, grinning from ear to ear. She ended up taking the keys from me and twisting them in the lock. After propping the door open she pressed her jean-clad knee against the door and yanked the key out of the lock. "Right?" She asked, a little breathless from the effort.

"Right." I said, sighing in defeat.

"Well who is it?"

"Um, Jackson Whittemore."

"Doesn't he have a girlfriend?" She asked, disappearing from view. I heard clattering pots and assumed she was in the kitchen. She was. "Making hot cocoa. Want some?" I shook my head.

"Lydia Martin, that's her name and I can't really compete with her. But it's okay, it's just a stupid crush."

"Does he scare you?" She asked. Her back was to me. I was glad, I couldn't lie and keep my facial expressions in accord to my fake story.

"Only when he's on the lacrosse field." I said, laughing and airily waving off my hand. She smiled but before she could say anything I cut her off. "I'm going to bed. 'Night."

* * *

Ms. Morrell was never late for her appointments. If she had a French class she'd make sure, just like any other student, that when that bell rang she went straight to her office.

I sat across from her the day after Harvey had left. Vee and I had already formed the eZine for that week. It was about Harvey. She would have loved it, and the popularity she was getting from it, no doubt. Ms. Morrell was wearing a pastel coloured light blue blouse. I could only see the top half of her body. The instant I walked in the door and went to grab the iron pills I had stored in the reception because I had forgotten mine today, the receptionist told me I was to see Ms. Morrell first thing in the morning.

My backpack was resting on the chair leg of where I sat. Ms. Morrell smiled at me. "I understand that your friend, Harvey, left school yesterday. Do you know where she went?" She asked. Her tone was different today. It was startlingly cold, not abrupt, businesslike. It was how she had been before giving me the pouch.

"No." I answered curtly. I did know where she was going, but I wasn't willing to pass the information up. If Ms. Morrell really wanted to know she wouldn't ask me, she'd ask the front office. I'm sure that the principal must've asked Harvey's family where they were headed. It was Beacon Hills, everybody knew everything, or wanted to, in this town. Ms. Morrell's smile thinned.

"Are you sure? I was a friend of the family. I knew you two were quite close."

"I don't know where she went. But she boarded a plane. Her father's afraid of flights so it can't be driving distance." In truth, it was driving distance. It just took around two thousand and four hundred miles to get there. She left to go to New York. "If you're a family friend, like you said, why didn't they tell you where they were going?"

"They did." My stomach fell. The grin I had on my face wavered. I thought I had beaten her at her own game, apparently I had to try harder. "I just wanted to know if you did. They went to—"

"New York, I know." I exclaimed, waving a hand. Her expression was clear-cut, startled. She folded her hands into her laps, removing her elbows from the table. As she leaned back her chair creaked louder than an old lady with arthritis.

"Why did you tell me if you knew?"

"Because I have trust issues. Isn't that what my file says?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. When she didn't answer my question I arched my eyebrows. "Isn't it? Or has someone taken my personal file because they want to protect me." She remained unfazed but her lips parted involuntarily. "Like you did with Derek Hale's." I said, raising my voice an octave or two to get her attention. It worked. She shook her head, elbows planted on the desk again. Her smile never wavered.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I'm sure you don't." I retorted, sliding my backpack up my arm. "If that's all I think I'll be going now. I've got class." I checked my watch. "Five minutes left."

"Sit." She said, tilting her head to look me in the eyes as I stood above her.

"I really should be—"

"Sit." She ordered, sharper. Her face was clear of emotions. I hated that: I couldn't decipher anything about her because she was as tightly shut as my file. I sat, backpack slinging to the floor. I crossed my legs.

"Your trust issues is one of the things we need to work on. If I had to guess, I'd say the only person you really trust is your mom. Or Vee. Care to tell me which it is?" She was provoking me. Reverse psychology. By pinning my mom against my best friend she wanted me to choose which I trusted the most, making me doubt both. If I chose Vee it would mean I didn't trust my mom; it would mean I trusted my best friend more than the woman who gave birth to me.

If I chose my mom it meant that I didn't trust Vee, my best friend. The girl whom I had entrusted my diary, multiple of them over the years, with and my un-twin: I didn't trust _her_. Ms. Morrell. I didn't like her for putting these suggestions in my head. I knew the answer, but I chose the fine line between them. Both of them.

"I trust more than one person. I trust multiple people, in fact." I trusted Vee more than my mom. Vee never kept anything from me. She was the one I could trust with any secret, big or small. My mom had kept things from me. Horrible things. She hadn't told me about the adoption or divorce. I knew nothing about either of them. The constant reminder, the image of those documents in my hands, gnawed at my brain. And that was what Ms. Morrell wanted. Doubt leads to second guessing and second thinking.

"I'm not one of them?"

"No."

"Can I ask why?"

I snorted. "You're asking if you can ask." She didn't respond. I shook my head. "Because you're keeping things from me. Important things. Like why you and Patch are protecting me. Who from."

"Those are things you need to figure out for yourself." She answered. "Nora, you're a smart girl. I'm sure you can do it. It's not like other people aren't keeping things from you."

"Other than you I can only think of Patch." I responded. "But he's working with you." I added in a clipped tone. I was finally catching her game. The dimensions that she played stretched your mind, for the better, and they couldn't be placed back after. "The powder burnt Scott." I continued, talking to myself. She looked down, uninterested, searching through her drawers. I grit my teeth.

She held something in her hands, shielded from my sight, underneath the table. "If you want my advice..." She dropped Derek Hale's personal file in front of me. She leant back as my eyes devoured it. Ms. Morrell crossed her legs. "I'd go to Harvey's house to make sure they didn't leave anything behind. Will you do me that favour?"

My eyes flickered down to the file. I didn't lunge at it, like I wanted to. When I met Ms. Morrell's eyes, raising my head ever so slightly, the corners of her mouth twitched her smile into a thicker, wider one. "I hope you don't mind me bringing a friend." I said.

"Bring many." She answered invitingly.

* * *

Vee wasn't in my French class so I sat in the furthest seat in the second row. I went to class early after my appointment with Ms. Morrell. Unfortunately, she had tucked Derek's file back into her desk. What was so secret that she didn't want me looking at? Was it her subtly way of telling me Derek wasn't the problem?

To my surprise, Allison Argent slid into the seat beside mine. Her reign as new girl was over, now she was just another regular Beacon Hills High student. She had it all: a boyfriend on the lacrosse team, good grades, Lydia as a best friend. Not that I would replace Lydia with Vee, ever, but it would be nice to be her friend without Vee flirting brazenly with Jackson.

Allison smiled at me. I smiled back. "Um, did you do the homework assignment?" She asked. Allison was a tall, slender girl with beautiful, sleek black hair that waved down her back in delicious curls. I was very jealous. She brushed aside a fallen curl, tucking it behind her ear. She turned fully to me so I could see her square-jawed face. Allison's pink lips, dotted with lipstick, stood out from her fair skin. She looked like Snow White.

"Yeah." I said, flipping through my notes. "Did you?"

"Yeah, I did mine on the first World War. Do you think she'll mind?" Allison asked, scrunching her face. Our homework assignment from Ms. Morrell was to research and report, in French, all about a type of war or battle the French were in. I shrugged. Honestly, I thought she would mind. I would, anyway. You had to research it in detail. "Okay. What did you do yours on?"

"The War of the Third Coalition." I said. I didn't want to sound too snobby but I didn't ask if she would mind. I knew that she wouldn't. "How long is yours?" I asked, keeping the conversation rolling.

"It's one of the World Wars, I thought if she'd be made the length would make up for the lack of originality. So I did three and a half pages, front and back." She said, cringing. My jaw dropped dramatically.

"You're going to make us all look bad!" I hissed. "I only did two pages." When she didn't smile I started laughing, lightly. She joined in too, chuckling modestly before Ms. Morrell walked in. Both Allison and I turned out attention to her.

Ms. Morrell believes that speaking a language is more important than learning how to write it. She has us say the French and only when she decides our pronunciation is right does she tell us to use it in a lengthy text.

During class I find out that Allison speaks fluent French. She holds her own against Ms. Morrell when she warns her against turning around in her seat to look at the clock. I lose track of what they're saying after Allison explains she doesn't have a watch on her wrist and Ms. Morrell tells her she needs to pay attention. I do catch the words _bell_, _class_, _French_ and _silver_. But silver is Allison's last name, Argent, in French.

Two minutes before the bell rings Ms. Morrell tells us that for the next French assignment we will be paired up. She tells everybody to look to their left. Allison turns to me. I smile. Ms. Morrell tells us that we have to arrange a long everyday conversation to present to the class by next lesson. She gives examples, like meeting up at school the first things that we generally talk about. The bell rings and we pack up our stuff. Allison waits for me outside of class.

"When do we have French next?" I asked her.

"I think next Tuesday. So, if you don't mind, maybe you could come to my house on Sunday and prepare then. We could always meet at school in the mornings too."

"I don't mind, Sunday it is. You have a busy schedule?"

"I'll try to ignore the surprising tone in your voice." She said, catching me off guard. I didn't mean to be. She's more analytical than she lets on. Ms. Morrell liked her French assignment. Maybe this was a good opportunity for me to learn better French. If her parents speak French, they could always help.

"Sorry if I sounded surprised. Haven't you only been here a month or two?"

Allison stopped to open her locker. I waited beside her. "Yeah, but I do have a boyfriend."

"I know. Scott McCall." I said. She put a French dictionary inside her locker and took out a textbook for her next class. I didn't see the cover but I think it was World History.

"Yeah. We have a study date tomorrow. And my aunt is coming today so I just know we're going to be doing something on Saturday as a family." She said, slamming her locker. A few paces forward and I stop to get my things from my locker. She talked about how her aunt used to live in Beacon Hills before she moved. My brain clicks and my heart skips a beat when she said she moved "about six years ago".

* * *

"We're going to Harvey's house after school." I told Vee, waving as Jackson passed by. He waved back, smiling, but didn't stop to say hello. He had a lacrosse stick strapped to his back, so I just assumed he had practice or something. Vee made a face like she had just sucked too hard on a bitter lemon.

"Why?" Vee blinked.

"Because they might have forgotten something during the move. If we find anything we'll send it to them, like the good friends we are." I said, rambling. "And Patch is coming."

"Why?" Vee blinked.

"In case there's anything heavy to lift. Derek's coming to, by the way." I said, although I still hadn't figured out how I was going to lure Derek to Harvey's house with us.

"Why?" Vee blinked.

"Because, um, because he has, er..." I had run dry out of lies. I huffed. "Because Ms. Morrell told me to, okay?"

"I don't trust that shady lady." She said. "And I know you don't either so why are you doing anything she says. What if she's at the house with a knife and has arranged to kill all three of us with Derek and he disposes of the bodies!"

"Vee." I said, appalled. "I think it's her way of getting me to trust her. She can't tell me why her and Patch are 'protecting' me," I made air quotes around _protecting,_ "directly and if I want to find out I have to bring Derek with us to Harvey's house. Patch is the muscle and you're the brains if anything goes wrong." I said.

"Why am I the brains? Why aren't I the muscle? I'm like Catwoman, lightning fast reflexes and all. Rain is our only kryptonite."

"You're not the brain I'm the brain. You just think well on adrenaline. And I need you there, you're my best friend." I said, pulling at her sleeve. She rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you're scared of Derek." She rolled her eyes, again. "Have Patch pick me up and we'll go to your house together."

* * *

With Mom having gone to yoga, my plan had no actual visible faults in it. I knew exactly what I was going to say to Derek to have him come with us. The unpredictability of whatever was in Harvey's house was the only part of the plan that could unravel everything. It caused a tight knot to form in my stomach, like a fist had grabbed all my intestines and tied them around each other.

"Has Patch picked you up yet?" I asked Vee.

"I can see his car coming down the road." She said with little crackling on the other end. Usually she was always busy doing something. The line was so clear I could hear her pull out her earbuds, the music playing louder against the phone, when she pulled them out. She stopped scratching her pencil against her notebook. Her bed's springs creaked as she went to the window and lifted it, I heard the slide of wood when she did. "Yeah he's here, see you in a few, babe." Patch honked his horn on cue.

"Okay."

"I hope you know what you're going to say to Derek to make him come with us." She sounded breathless. She was running down the stairs. I heard her call out to her parents and then close the door.

"I do. But I'm not going to tell you. It's—it's a surprise." The end of my sentence had a lilt to it, like a question.

"Hey Patch. You know where Nora lives?" I heard the grumble of his response. "Okay, drive." She commanded. "If you don't tell me what you're going to say to Derek, I'm not coming."

"I heard you. I know you're already in Patch's car, Vee. Just trust me."

"But what if it doesn't work? What if he just doesn't come, isn't that the whole point of this operation?" She asked. I heard Patch grumble. "Yes, operation, Patch. Didn't you know? Nora and I are spies." Loud laughter. "What's so funny?" He said _nothing._

"It will work." I promised.

"Nora." Vee warned. "It better not be you. You better not be offering a date or something. I would not be able to stand the image of his big calloused hands all over your skinny body—"

"Vee!" I said, stopping her in midsentence. "It's not a date." I started to feel heat creep up from my collar into my cheeks. "It's a, um, how can I say this without giving it up?" I asked myself. I rolled over on my bed, my stomach towards the ceiling and my hair spilled out in a wavy pool over my head. "It's an opportunity, I guess."

"Can we play hangman for it?"

"Over the phone?"

"I have an app." She said. "Oh wait, we're already here. Patch honk the horn." Patch's Jeep Commander was parked outside. I wondered how fast they must've gone. I didn't hear Vee complaining so probably very. "Come downstairs." She said, and hung up. My window was open. As I walked, feet clad only in socks, to shut it, I heard the clip of a door close.

The door was unlocked. I heard Vee open it. As Vee ran up the stairs I struggled to put on my black boots. "Wow, you're dressing up for him." She said.

"No, I just want to be prepared if we have to make a fast getaway by foot, a comfortable fast getaway, or have to kick the crap out of anything. These boots can do both." I said, lacing them up.

"Perfect convenience." Vee said, clapping her hands together. "But it's light out still." She motioned to the open curtain, letting in bright streams of liquid sunshine.

"So?"

"So!? Everybody knows that all operations have to be done at night and all operators have to wear black."

"We're not waiting that long and I'm not getting changed." I shut my window and walked out of my room. As I went downstairs I stole a glance at my father's office. "Last time we went there it was night and he wasn't in."

"Last time who went there?" Vee asked.

"Me and Pat—" My throat caught. I had forgotten that I had never told Vee about asking Patch to drive me to Derek's so I could confront him and demand he leave me alone. That was the night before he got arrested. We watched Stiles and Scott dig up his sister's body. They probably reported it to the police later but we didn't stick around to find out. I didn't want to be involved and Patch agreed that we should just stay out of it. I never even told Vee. Maybe I was the one she shouldn't trust.

I closed the door behind me, but didn't lock it. I didn't want Mom returning to an empty house so this 'operation' was going to have to be in-and-out lightning fast.

"Vee I'm sorry we never told you." I said, walking to Patch's Jeep. "But I asked Patch to drive me to Derek's so I could confront him and tell him to leave me alone. I didn't want you there because, at the time, I thought he was too dangerous and now—"

"And now you want me there because Ms. Morrell wants you to bring him to Harvey's abandoned house? Okay." She said, slipping into the car claiming shotgun. I shut the door behind me and told Patch to go. He had never switched off the engine so it was nice and warm inside. The engine purred as he pulled away.

"So, wait? You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" Vee asked, flapping her hand outwards toward Patch airily. "So my best friend didn't tell me she brought her new gay best friend with her to Derek Hale's house once. Anything else you want to tell me?"

I caught Patch's eye in the rear view mirror. He nodded. I proceeded to tell her everything that had happened that night. I told her how we had watched Stiles and Scott, just as daring as Vee and I, dig up Laura Hale's body. Patch added in every odd detail like them jumping back and the purple plant that looked the same shade as the powder inside the pouch that was housed in my pocket.

By the time I had finished we were already at Derek Hale's ashy, splintered house. I unlocked the door, holding up a hand as they tried to get out too. As I left Patch was answering all of Vee's questions, all truthfully.

I didn't enter the Hale house. Derek was standing on the porch, clad in black. He ate up the distance between us with his long legs. I met his halfway with my equally, if not longer, legs eating the distance in large strides.

"Hey." He said. His face was set, hard.

"I'm not going to sugar coat it. Okay? I know why you've been so friendly—" My throat caught on the word. "With me. I know you just want a peek at my father's study. His last case was the Hale fire because your sister hired him to help her. But they both died before it was solved. He died first." He had the courtesy to dim his eyes from the bemusement that had glittered in them when he first saw me.

"If you come with me, Vee and Patch to our friend Harvey's house, then you can look at my father's study the next time my mom is out of town at work." I said.

He looked thoughtful. His dark brows knitted together as he seemed to chew the proposition over. Derek asked, "Why do you want me to come? Why not just the three of you?" He took out his hands from his pockets. He wasn't wearing his trademark leather jacket, I noticed.

"That's one of the conditions: you can't ask why. You just have to help us look for whatever they left behind." I said.

The square of his shoulders loosened, tension visibly draining for the tight line of his lips. "Alright." He said, nostrils flaring as he took a step towards me. "But I have a condition of my own."

"Name it."

"You have to ride to Harvey's house in my car." He held his finger to my lips, a heirs breath away from touching them. "I'll follow your friend's car there." His lips twisted into a harsher, wilder smile. It wasn't large enough to be a grin but it wasn't pleasant enough to be a smile. It was something purely designed by Derek: a twist of lips like the black clothes he wears, like the way he walks, like the dark cloud that hangs over him, like how wolfish his eyes were and like how achingly beautiful he was with all his black and white contrasts. "You can't ask why." He added, for good measure.

"You think riding in your car with you will make me uncomfortable?"

"Ah! You can't ask questions." He turned on his heel to go to his car.

"I'm riding over with Derek. Don't ask. He doesn't know where Harvey's house is so we'll be following you." I said.

"Be careful, Nora." Patch said. Vee's eyes said the same thing. I nodded, once, and left. Getting into Derek's car reminded me of the night of the full moon. The night I had first gotten into Derek's Camaro and later that night heard all that... stuff.

Patch's Jeep ran smoothly down the Preserve. Two minutes later, the engine still purring, and we were on the road. The ride was tense. It was filled with something heavy that I could have personally done without. I didn't want to label it sexual tension but that was exactly what it was. I rolled down the window.

Derek's nostrils flared, inhaling. The sound was jagged, his eyes rounded. "You smell... your scent." He said in a rough voice.

I arched my brows. "What about my _scent_? Are you saying I smell bad?"

"No. But I think I'm allergic to something you're wearing. Did you get a new perfume maybe? Or a gift from the Argents?" I dug my fingers into my pocket and pulled on the lacy string coiled around the top. I lay it on my palm and raised my brows into my hairline, asking him if that was it. "Yeah, I-I think that's it. God, it's awful. What's in it?" He asked. His grip on the wheel had tightened so hard his pale fingers were yellow. Colour had flooded his cheeks, bright splotchy red colour like it would if someone who was allergic to peanuts would eat them. But he had mentioned my scent, which meant he had smelled it. Maybe it was the enclosed space.

"I'm not sure..." I murmured. I knew what this meant. Him and Scott. The powder burned Scott and I was pretty sure that if it fell onto Derek it would burn him too. Ms. Morrell had told me the powder was to protect me. I wasn't to trust anyone whom it affected. I tossed it out the window.

"Did the Argents give you that?" He growled. I had seen, before the powder flew away out the window and whipped against the wind, his eyes threatening to change again. It didn't scare me like it did that first night, but it fascinated me.

"No. Can you do that again? With your eyes? Can you show me?"

He bit his bottom lip, rolling it between his blunt teeth. "Only if you tell me who gave you that powder."

"I found it in my backpack when I went to the bathroom after French class." I lied. "Now can I see?"

He nodded. Wordlessly, he closed his eyes for half a second. I saw his pretty green eyes, the pupils blown over them. When he snapped his eyes open they had glazed over, the pupils were thinner ringed by pale, cold, icy blue eyes. My breath caught in my throat, like a bubble that needed to pop. I swallowed, loudly. Thinking I was afraid, he shut his flashing eyes. They went back to their grey-green colour.

"Beautiful." I murmured, reaching out. With the back of my hand I stroked his cheekbone. He leaned into the touch, a high whining sound coming from his throat. His eyes flashed – for the quickest second – that beautiful blue before he regained control and they were leafy again instead of exotically, wintry blue.

* * *

Patch's Jeep ground to a halt. He honked twice to signal we had arrived. I told Derek to park and waited until the car had stilled from the rumbling of its engine to open the door. Immediately I was greeted by Vee, not trusting Derek to leave me alone for another second with him.

"Ready to go?" I asked him over my shoulder, ignoring the look of startled betrayal on Vee's face. He grumbled a reply. I let Vee lead us up towards Harvey's house. Patch followed, locking his car. Derek didn't bother to.

Harvey's house, like most in Beacon Hills, was a small, flat, but showy brick concrete masterpiece. Its slanted roof bore a chimney, rare for Beacon Hills but not unpopular among those who had them. The rough red colour of the roof looked odd against the pale white painted walls of the outside house. Inside, they were a bird's bluer eggshell colour. Its parkway was empty, Patch and Derek had both parked their cars on the curb of the street.

"How are we getting in? They still have neighbours." Patch said, an ever-present realist.

"They left a spare key under the tacky welcome mat. They said if anyone found anything, other than the realtor, to send it to them right away." Vee said.

"Not the brightest idea." Derek commented.

"They only told friends. Not even their neighbours know about it. Oh God, Vee, do you remember old lady Eve?"

"With the millions of cats? Yeah. She always reeked of tuna." Vee said idly.

When we reached the porch I realised just how much the four of us must stand out. Vee's shimmering blonde hair loose around her shoulders, my black hair tucked into my hood, Patch and Derek's black-clad bodies big and bulky.

"Got it." Vee said after rummaging around under the mat for a little while. She pressed the shiny silver key into my open palm. Patch tapped his foot impatiently while I turned the key in the lock, waiting to hear the click. It never came. "Give it here." Vee said, pushing me away with her hip.

She thrashed around, squeezing the key at awkward angles it wasn't mad for, like a woman in a bathtub full of sharks. Groaning, Patch pinched the bridge of his nose. When the click sounded Vee violently kicked open the door, stuttering through the threshold.

"Finally." Patch said. I followed him inside. My eyes landed on a spot between his shoulder blades, guiding me into the house. The back of his shirt had a picture of a white bird flying across it. The printed bird was luminous inside the dark, damp, dingy house.

I turned. "Derek, c'mon." He was caught with one foot on the porch and one further back. He looked like he was trying to decide if he should or shouldn't go but his features were all stricken with horror. "Derek?" His eyes flicked up, menacingly, ice cold blue. Gasping, I heard Vee take a step back. Patch's arm was striking my torso pushing me back when Vee lunged for me.

"I-I gotta..." Thin, lengthened canines peeked out from his top and bottom lips. He spun around on his heel, flustered, and ran to his car. I followed Patch's line of vision seeing glinting nails at the tip of his fingers.

"What do you think caused that reaction?" Patch asked.

A gentle rush of wind blew across my face, hair zipping back from my scalp. In the swaying breeze, a purple plant poked out from view. The same plant Stiles pulled out from the soil that was roped around in a spiral when he and Scott dug up Laura's body.

"I'm guessing that." I said, pointing to the plant. Patch nodded. Vee's footsteps were audible from inside as she rummaged around upstairs. When she bounced down the stairs Patch's boot clapped against the earth, the plant under his sole.

"They didn't leave anything." Vee said. "Do you think Derek had an allergic reaction to the dust? That would explain why his eyes went all funny and his lips thinned enough for us to see his teeth—"

"Must've been." Patch said, cutting her off. He didn't let me explain what had really happened to her. But even I didn't fully understand how he had changed. I was guessing it was because of the plant but...

"They do have the same door as Dr. Deaton's, though." Vee said as she stepped down, still shivering. I was guessing that it wasn't because of the cool breeze.

"What did you say?" Patch demanded.

"Harvey's house... the door. It looks like it's made out of the same wood as Dr. Deaton's animal clinic. You know the latch he holds behind the counter? I was there once when my dog—"

Patch shouldered her, unintentionally cutting her off again. Vee's mouth shut into a tight white line. She hugged her elbows, looking like a frail thing that could break any second. I scraped my boot against the plant. She wasn't ready for this. Whatever 'this' was. She couldn't handle it if the truth got to her. She couldn't. So I wouldn't let it.

"Patch'll have to drive us both back. Derek left..." Vee couldn't finish her sentence. I watched her speed-walk towards the Jeep, wanting to leave this memory behind her. Patch brushed the door against his fingers, pulling the chipped paint into his palm with glazed eyes.

"We'll be in the car." I said. He tossed he his keys. Unlocking it, Vee and I clamoured inside. "Why do you think he got so freaked out?" I asked. I didn't mean to press on the issue any further, but I knew ignoring it, especially with Vee, would only make it worse. Her eyes light up with an emerald spark. I wondered how long I could keep everything from her without her finding out.

"I don't know, but an allergic reaction really is a stretch. Did you see the way Patch just blocked you with his body? Almost as if he wasn't scared just... ready."

"To fight Derek?"

"Maybe." She said. After a while, "Do you know something I don't?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"Just... with what's been happening lately. I just have a feeling that I'm missing something. You froze up, maybe of shock, but I didn't even see you move. You weren't scared either." She said. A muscle in her clenched jaw jumped. That was odd. Even for Vee, she never got this agitated.

"You think you were the only one that was scared? Vee his teeth were sharper! His eyes..." I shivered, a nice effect but it was a strange time for that bodily function.

"I'm not giving up you know." She said. "Whatever happened, I know someone's off. About you, about Patch. Ironically, Derek seemed like the only one in place."

"What are you talking about?" I urged, my tone a whispered hush. I was beginning to get frightened, frightened for Vee's life. If I had Ms. Morrell and Patch's protection, and that made me feel less safe than ever, what did Vee think she could do?

"Something's wrong. Something's been wrong since... since that night. I don't like what's happening."

"The people dying?"

"No you." She spat. "Don't play dumb. Ever since that night you've been so different. The whole thing with Derek, Ms. Morrell, I don't know what it is or why you're being so different but I'm going to find out why."

"Why are you being like this?"

"Because I don't want my best friend lying to me!" A rotten silence dropped between us. She sighed. "Patch is coming." She said. He got in the car and revved the engine. When he plummeted away the car I saw Vee, just staring out the window at the crushed purple plant.

* * *

Vee wasn't in school the next day. It frightened me beyond belief, I felt like breaking down and crying. Of course, I didn't. I held myself up with a straight spine and tried not to think about what kind of danger she was getting herself into because of me.

I told myself, to make myself feel better, she was doing it so I'd stop lying to her and that would make everything okay. If she knew. But I didn't even know. I didn't know what was going on and I didn't like it. I thought back to mine and Ms. Morrell's conversation yesterday. It seemed almost like she had planned all this out. That was improbable, she couldn't be that manipulative. Could she?

"Hey," Allison said, sitting next to me with a sunny smile.

"Hey."

In Vee's absence I find that Allison is better company than I thought. We're together the whole day. Before lunch she and Lydia talk about Scott coming over for their date.

"What did Lydia say?" I asked as we sat down to lunch on separate tables. Lydia was with Jackson, who didn't like to share a table with Scott, so Allison would always hold a table for him and Stiles and sit with them.

"For me to give him a little taste. When I asked how much that was she gushed about how I liked him."

"Do you?"

"Of course I like him, but after one date what's a little taste, right?" She said, but clammed up when Scott and Stiles swing into view. Stiles, shockingly, sits beside me. Scott sat next to Allison and they're already talking, in depth, about their day and their study date.

"Hey," I said awkwardly to Stiles.

"Hi. Haven't seen you 'round as much as I would have liked." He said back.

"Ditto." I said. He was wearing an open gray shirt over a tee with a print of a square gaming design that was so turquoise it hurt to look at. Dark red pants completed the look.

"Don't shut up just yet, Grey." He said with a crooked, wobbly smirk that forces laughter out of me. I end up finding myself talking to them, all of them; Allison, Stiles and Scott. We avoid all uncomfortable subjects: their study date, the deaths in town, Derek Hale. Then something just clicked _right_ and we talked about seemingly boring things very interested.

I found out Scott's mom, Melissa, was a nurse at the hospital and was usually working until late. I began doubting Ms. Morrell then. Despite what her powder said, how could someone so easygoing, goofy and a little dull, someone like Scott, want harm to me? Why would she feel the need to protect me from this sweet, chocolate-eyed teenager who was just as awkward as the rest of us? I found myself smiling too much at Stiles and smirking too much at Allison and laughing too much at Scott. It seemed too perfect to be true. A light shone in a dark corner of my mind, one where I had wondered what my life would have been like without Vee. Was this it?

Lunch ended too soon forcing the four of us to split to different classes. Mine was with Patch. As I sat beside him, immediately, he turned towards me. The twist of his lips made me uncomfortable. I could see by the way his shoulders were set, rigid, he wasn't happy. "You've been hanging out with that Argent girl a whole lot." His eyes raked me up and down, agonizingly slowly, seeing everything but giving nothing back.

"What's it to you?" I snapped.

"Nora." Was all he said back.

"I'm seriously starting to doubt you. When Derek... _changed_, all you did was flinch and force me behind you. You say that you and Ms. Morrell want to protect me. What does it matter who I hang out with? Scott's harmless, he's a big puppy. And Allison's the sweetest girl you'll find for miles." I rambled, feeling heads being turned to squawk at us. Heat tickled my cheeks with probing tendrils of warmth crawling up to my back. I scratched a pimple on my neck nervously.

"Allison Argent. Argent means silver in French. Figured that one out yet?" He drawled, balancing a pencil on his open palm. Patch's midnight black eyes hit me like a bolt of lightning. I jolted.

"So what?" I hissed, tired.

"Silver. Just remember it."

My mind wandered briefly to when Allison had said her father sold firearms to the law enforcement.

"Her aunt's in town. Should I remember her too? Kate Argent. You know her?"

Patch didn't flinch. "She used to live in Beacon Hills. Allison has bad blood in her, Nora. Her family's messed up." The way he discredited her made me flinch. Bad blood. I didn't even know whose blood I had. I was adopted and my parents were divorced. Patch, seeing my expression of dead horror, stroked my bare arm calling my name softly under his breath. "We _are_ trying to protect you." I ripped my arm away from his touch.

"I'm sick of you." Was the last time I said to him before turning back to face the teacher and take notes, ignoring idly his expression as he ate me up with wolfish eyes.

* * *

The first thing I did when I had gotten home was call Vee. Well, actually the first thing I did was parking my old car, calling Vee was next. She picked up on the third ring.

"Babe?"

"Vee!"

"I know what you're going to say, babe, so don't even. I didn't skip school because of you. I'm not mad at you, I promise. I don't like feeling left out and I can't help feel you're keeping something from me so I'm gonna find out what that is. I wasn't at school today because I skipped it. Jules took me to his house and we just hung out. He's super rich, his house is huge! He says his parents are never at home too!"

That sounded more like the Vee I knew.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5: THE TELL

It was Saturday when Jackson called. Vee was over at my house telling me all about her visit to Jules'. Apparently, Bruce Wayne couldn't compete. His parents spent lots of time in Africa or Australia looking for diamonds. I was pretty sure Australia didn't even hit the top ten places where diamonds are most extravagant. Vee thought they just had old money.

"Jackson?" Vee asked. I heard grumbling from the other end of the line. Vee handed me my phone.

"Yeah?"

"Lydia was wondering if you guys wanted to see a movie tonight." He said.

Vee made a gagging gesture. "Oh, sure. Should we meet you at the video rental place?"

"Yeah. We'll pick a movie then come back to my place to watch it, popcorn guaranteed." He said, then clicked off. Vee was scolding me with her best scowl.

"It won't be that bad." I said, shrugging on my jean jacket. "It's Jackson and Lydia. You like Lydia... and Jackson."

Vee shot up. "Yeah but not enough to spend a whole night watching movies with them. The power couple of BHHS? Why would they be interested in watching a movie with us? I smell a rat." She said.

"'Cause you're Catwoman?"

"Beyond the point. Jackson and Lydia want to go see a movie, that's fine. When you invite two girls over, they've got a secret agenda I mean seriously. I've heard of four-ways but I don't wanna be on the receiving end of one."

It was my turn to make the gagging gesture. "They're our friends, Vee you're being ridiculous." She didn't move. "Now that you've got a taste of the good life with Jules you don't want to both to go see a movie with your best friend?" I crossed my arms.

Sighing, she got up. "It's not that I don't wanna see a movie with you. I will, just pick one and cancel on Jackson and Lydia." She said, unfolding my arms gently and patting them back to my sides.

"We're going." I said sternly. "Now put on your jacket and let's go. You're driving." I threw the keys of the Neon, that were left on my desk, at her. She caught them. She shifted her weight between her feet, weighing the options. When I saw her look as if she was about to make a break for it I grabbed her wrist and pulled her down the stairs. She swooped up her jacket off my desk chair along the way.

"What is this really about?" I asked her when she keyed the Neon, revving the engine. All the lights were off inside the farmhouse and my mom wouldn't be back until tomorrow night. Hugo had called her in to go to Upstate New York.

"I just have a really bad feeling about this."

"We'll finally be able to rent _The Sacrifice _for the eZine."

"I don't think Jackson and Lydia will be up to watching _The Sacrifice_, babe. Thinking about it, they'll probably make us watch boring sports movies. Urgh, or _The Notebook_."

"You really think Lydia's the type of girl to want to watch _The Notebook_?" I asked, drawling out the title of the film on my tongue and savouring it like chocolate. "No. Lydia won't even stand through the first five minutes of it. She probably barfed when she saw the trailer."

"I feel like we're gonna watch some science-y thing." Vee said. _The two were so different: Jackson and Lydia. Just picking a movie to watch together must take great effort. _"What are you thinking so hard about?"

"Nothing."

"That reminds me. Since we're not doing anything tomorrow, Jules invited you and Elliot to come out to dinner with us. Enzo's?"

"I've got a French project to do with Allison tomorrow. She invited me to her house and everything." I said. "She's actually pretty good at French. Her last name, Argent, actually means silver. Maybe she originates from France."

"Why the sudden interest?"

"She's been here for like a month and we don't really know much about her. She seems nice so I thought, why not?"

"Replacing Harvey so soon?" Vee asked with a smirk. Suddenly, a cold finger grazed up my spine – no, not a finger. Eyes. Cold, hard, pale eyes simmering with _something_ underneath the surface devoured every inch of my body. Something primal, animalistic, something downright dangerous. "Babe?"

"What?"

"You zoned out."

"Oh, I was just remembering a dream I had."

"Was it dirty? Did it involve S-E-X?" Vee grinned at my expression of disposition. Laughing to herself she made a left. My shoulder hit the window, seatbelt pulling up taut against my body. "Sorry, rough turn. Hard to see in the dark."

"I thought cats could see in the dark." I said, mildly bored. I rested my head against the cool window. "You've got headlights on too, what's the excuse?"

"Cats can see in the dark. That's why I don't need them. Besides it's only eight o'clock. My parents think I'm sleeping over at yours. How long are we gonna be at Jackson's house?" She asked, tapping her finger against the steering wheel. I picked up a hot bottle of water that was thrashing around at my feet. Gingerly I placed it in the glove compartment.

"I don't know. Probably until the movie ends."

"Think you can convince them to watch _The Sacrifice_?" Vee asked, making a second sharp left. This time, my shoulder rammed into her's. A scream choked my throat like bony fingers squeezing my windpipe.

"Easy!" I moaned. "I'll try, but no promises. How long until we get there, they're probably waiting for us already." I said. Vee nailed me with a point-blank look. _If looks could kill_. "What?"

"I'm going as fast as I can. Do you want to try?"

"God, no." I breathed, barely audible. Last time I drove the Neon I was coming home from Vee's house. A... _thing_ stopped me, clawing at the window. It had red eyes and dark fur all over. I sped away almost hitting a boy in the middle of the road. That feeling burned up my spine, hotter this time. Something was wrong. "What did you say before about having a bad feeling?"

"It's stupid." Vee said.

"When was the last time you filtered your sentence because it was

stupid?" I challenged.

"I just feel like something bad is about to happen. With all that has been going on lately, this feels like the clam before the storm. You know? Maybe it's just the parent-teacher conferences on Monday. My mom is freaking out about my bad grades. She blames it on her bad parenting. To get over it, she thinks the solution is spending quality mother-daughter time together."

"You never talk about your mother." I said. She had changed the topic awfully quickly.

"There's nothing ever to really talk about. You don't talk about your mom much either." She countered, her intone sharp. Was she feeling defensive?

"That's just because of my dad."

She set her lips into a tight pale line. Placing both hands on the steering wheel she turned into the parking lot of the rental video store. As suspected, they were already there. It was a Black Volkswagen Beetle. Lydia was in the driver's seat. Must've been her car. I had never seen her car before.

Lydia, as Jackson got out of the car, flashed us a killer picture perfect smile. Sometimes, the differences between her and Marcie got blurred. Vee slammed her car door shut. I did the same, trailing after her.

"What movie we renting? Vee asked, pushing open the door to Video 2 C. The flashing red sign had a bright yellow star between the 2 and the C.

"_The Notebook_." He said. The way he said it made me think he had lost the argument with Lydia. Turning around I saw that she looked happy. Yep, Jackson definitely lost. Vee nailed me with another black look the Grim Reaper would have been proud of.

"I was thinking something more along the lines of _The Sacrifice_?"

"Only if you can slip it past Lydia." Jackson said back, a small smile forming.

The store was a small, square space with small shelves lining the aisles in genre. The walls were painted a dark blue, each door a bright, cheery crossing yellow. The pillars and beams holding up most of the place were painted dark red with neon bands around the tops. It looked as if someone had splashed primary colours all around, paint buckets gone wild. Vee wrinkled her nose at me.

The fluorescent lighting was oddly mismatched. The white ceiling was in squares, here and there were lights scattered around taking up the whole square. It gave the store an eerie setting.

Jackson went off to find _The Notebook_. Vee and I circled the selves looking for _The Sacrifice. _I passed most of them brushing my finger along the edge of the row. Vee turned to me in alarm. She was about to say something but shut her mouth, looking around.

She whispered to me, "Babe, your hair."

My hands went up immediately to smooth out my hair. "What about it?"

"It's red. It couldn't get any redder if someone set it on fire." Vee hissed, still whispering. Okay, so my hair had the teeniest, tiniest bit of auburn in it. I was still a brunette.

"It's just the lighting. Jackson won't realise."

On cue, he came around the corner. A shrill phone started to ring an ear-splitting ring. He stopped, midstride, when he saw my hair. He bit his fist to stop laughing. "Um, can you guys help me find _The Notebook_?"

Vee, in passing, slapped his shoulder as she took him away from me. I rushed to find a mirror of any kind, fingers threading through my hair. I stopped by when I saw a flash of silver. Turning in a pool of darkness, I saw a silver ladder leading up to a flashing light.

"Hello?" I called out, hands dropping to my sides. "Um, can somebody help us find _The Notebook_?"

"Is anybody working here?" Jackson yelled, coming to stand by my side. Vee was on his heels, flipping her blonde hair as her head snapped around. "The door was unlocked." He muttered, stepping gingerly around a row.

"Isn't it against the law to enter a premise without staff supervision?" I didn't know if it was. I just wanted to leave. I felt burning eyes at the back of my skull. Turning around I saw nothing, no one anywhere. But as I turned the eyes were now on the other side, still burning holes into my skull.

"Maybe we should just leave." Vee suggested, echoing my thoughts.

"Hello? Is anybody working here?" Jackson demanded. His voice had gone louder by several octaves. He was getting pissed off. Jackson stepped aside, clearing a beam with an animated poster on it. Shaking his head he muttered, "You gotta be kidding me."

He started to make his way towards the silver ladder. I cringed inwardly. Vee reached out to grab his arm. "Don't." She warned. Her eyes were round; you could see her full green irises. She was scared.

"Vee?" I gingerly placed my hand on her shoulder. Jackson shrugged off Vee's hand and turned back around giving a small smile as if to say _no worries_. Vee was too shell-shocked to respond. I said, "Vee?" again, louder so she would hear. Shaking now, she pointed past Jackson at a pair of boots opposite the silver ladder. They weren't moving. And they weren't just boots. They were feet.

"Nora, Nora let's go. Please." She shuddered, gripping my arm. I tried to pull away from her but her fingernails dug sharper into my skin etching permanent half circle tattoos. I gave her a weak smile, telling her it was all okay. She shook her head. "No." She gulped loudly. "No, no, no." This wasn't like her. Was she seeing something I wasn't? All that was there were feet. They guy probably passed out or something. I turned, prying her fingers from my arm.

With my long legs I caught up to Jackson's slow, casual saunter in a matter of seconds. He sighed. The broken lights started blinking. "What was she so scared of?" He asked. I pointed at the feet. He squinted, trying to see past the feet, maybe further up to the body. Jackson walked towards it, slower like if he went too fast it would scuttle away.

I wanted to tell him to be careful, but to sound came out. It was a stupid suggestion, anyway. We inched past one row, then a second. Two more were distanced between us and the man. His crumpled form looked like he was lying down, hiding behind the row. Steps echoed behind us. Spinning around I saw Vee, biting her sleeves like a small child.

Jackson didn't slow down. With each sure step of his boots he brought himself closer and closer to the still man. We followed behind him, our steps not so sure.

There were a million things the man could've been. There was no reason he had to have been what Vee thought he was. At least what I _thought_ Vee thought he was. I tried to slow my heartbeat as I brushed Jackson's shoulder. He rounded the corner.

A fleeting image of my mom passed my eyes. Maybe it was my conscience trying to tell me to think of her before I put myself in danger. That's what I got from it. What else could it mean? I didn't trust the rumbling feeling in my stomach that told me she was in danger. She couldn't be in danger. I had read once that in suspension your body reacts as if it already knows what's going to happen as if to ease your mind. It was a nice thought, but nothing could have prepared my mind for this. Not this.

The guy had glasses sliding down to the end of his nose. He had beard covering most of his jaw and lower face, a few shades darker than his dark ginger hair. His eyes were distant, hard. His mouth was open in silent horror. He was wearing dark jeans over his black shoes and a black T-shirt under a pinstripe clear blue open buttoned shirt.

Dark, burgundy blood spattered up his beard, flecks touching his ear. A thick, gaping claw wound sliced down his neck. The blood that had welled was too thick and messy to notice if there was more than one scratch. Because of the collar of his shirt, the way he was propped up against the shelf, the blood spilled downwards over his collarbone and dripping to his chest.

I threw a hand over my mouth feeling fat, hot tears spring to my eyes. I blinked them away. Vee, who had gasped and stumbled backwards, seized my hand and pulled me back. I saw Jackson mouth _Oh my God_ before he was scuttling backwards, eyes never leaving the ugly, bloody wound.

Jackson backed up into the ladder. It was supporting the fallen square of light – Jackson bumped into it – so as it fell the square tile of ceiling tore down from its place in the roof. Sparks, ear-splittingly loud and blindingly bright, hailed down from the wound in the ceiling. The tile fell with a rugged wire connecting it to the ceiling like an umbilical cord.

With one the others started sparking, flickering in and out of consciousness. I imagined Lydia, watching with horror, as the lights burst and popped from light – to darkness.

Jackson's breathing was uneven – rocky – as he glared at what he had done. Vee pulled him back from the body. The loss of one tile had caused some damage in the wiring above. As they flicked, when all of them clicked off, the store was tinted with a horrid shade of red: too close to the colour of blood. What a perfect metaphor. The loss of one video store clerk would cause havoc among the town, like the other two dead bodies had.

Jackson looked up, not at Vee but behind her, suddenly. As his head slowly rolled over behind Vee's shoulder his eyes caught mine. Was he feeling what I was feeling? Burning, fiery eyes staring at us all with a ravenous hunger?

I followed his line of vision, turning my neck painfully. He saw it before I did. His features shifted. His eyes, in the flashing red lights, turned distant like the dead man's. Vee was clinging onto him, a hand on his arm. His hand was laid over her's. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut. She didn't want to see anymore. She didn't want to lose anymore of her innocence tonight. But for me it was too late. As I watched, transiently, Jackson's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed my eyes transfixed on the thing a few feet from us: it was standing where we had stood when we first saw the dead man's feet. My fingers laced with Vee's. I felt my mouth go dry, dangerously dry. My tongue clung to the roof of my mouth.

The untrustworthy lights flashed off – not red, not bright, just plain pitch-black. It seemed to camouflage in the blackness. I couldn't see the shape of its body; I couldn't make out a single features. Except its disturbingly luminous eyes.

The darkness eased up a shade so it was a darker gray instead of black; the lights were crossed between off and slightly-off. A glint of fang shimmered under its flattened, lengthy snout-like nose. Its eyes were spaced too far apart from its nose. That wasn't the disturbing part.

Outside of its black pupil orbs, with a sparkle of unknown white light in the dead centre of each pupil, were red irises. I had only ever seen red eyes in pictures because of the flash. This was _wrong_. No animal should have that bright a shade of red eyes.

I could have stared at them for hours and I still couldn't have described them. They were fiery red, brighter than the neon bands around the red beams of the store. Its red eyes were even brighter than the blood slashed across the dead man's throat. The thing's eyes looked like fresh blood, cherry red, imperial red, carmine red.

Dark, rusty, crimson red.

What happened next is hard to explain. My mind couldn't string together coherent thoughts except to describe the red eyes before me, Jackson and Vee. I don't know how my brain managed to process my body's movements.

Jackson caught Vee's hand, tugging her away. When Vee tried to grab me my arm lashed out to press her body against Jackson's. His hand went around her mouth and he pulled her towards him ducking behind a shelf. His hand reached out for me to grab but it was too late. I turned my body to dive forward but it was faster than my diving skills were.

Before I even bent my knees it was already hurtling towards me on all fours. With a sharp blaze of silver claws scattering light over its shoulder it was gone. Or seemingly out of my unswerving vision.

The lights had taken a sharp hue of red, a little lighter than the thing's eyes. I had heard my skin rip before I felt it. But when I did feel it, my legs gave out from under me. My brain hadn't processed my nerve endings yet, my body was still thrumming adrenaline as my arm caught on fire.

I screamed as I felt the lashing throb, arm caught under me to cushion the fall. I rolled over bringing my arm up by lifting my other hand around my wrist – I couldn't move it, it was too numb and still too fresh.

The lights continued to play their game of red peek-a-boo. A warm wetness dropped onto my chest. When the regular, bright lights flashed on for a second I saw it all. I saw the wound. Even after the red hue had taken over once more I still saw it. It was printed behind my eyeballs. Just like the dead guy's wound was.

Its powerful claws had ripped through my shirt. Luckily, I had rolled my jean jacket's sleeves past my elbows in time to save them from the blow way beforehand. Blood hadn't even caught on it yet. But my purple shirt was a goner. Three straight-lined tears coursed through the sleeve. Under the tear, my skin had given way for the sharp-edged claws too. It made me sick.

Not too much skin had been shredded. I predicted that it had ripped through three maybe four layers of skin. Each claw mark was irregular, pink soft flesh drawn back. The middle claw mark was the worst. The blood had jetted up, rushed to the surface, quicker than it had for the other too. It seeped towards the smallest wound which looked angrily red but it wasn't bleeding. A white strip of skin dangled from the second biggest wound, the longest but not the deepest. My stomach rolled over.

I felt fiery breath over my exposed neck, just ghosting out of my vision. I gasped, howling in pain, when it thundered me aside. I sailed through the floor on my back, keeping my wounded arm up over my head. My side hit a shelf, the impact snapping my head back with neck-breaking force.

Vision swam unfocused. I tried to blink back the nausea that was sent directly down to my stomach but couldn't. Piercing pain pummelled through the wound, more blood spitting out. The marks were just below the elbow, probably going to scar. Black and slippery blood – _my_ blood – danced down from the wound onto the floor with alarming speed. The puddle touched my shoulder. All the medical advice I had ever learnt threatened to split my head in two when it rushed back with such intensity I thought I was going to pass out from the pain. I couldn't shrug off my jean jacket with the sleeves rolled up so tight and the wound so close to the denim. Instead I unwound the purple scarf around my neck with my teeth and pressed it against the wound with my good hand.

The second the silky material brushed the messy, cleaved skin white-hot pain pricked up my arm waking it up from its numb slumber. I bit my lower lip to stop from screaming. Blood was pounding in my ears, my heart rushing more of it to the wound as it beat against my ribcage with concentration that sounded more like a drum than a heartbeat.

"Nora! Nora." I kept my eyes open wide to stop the tears spilling out. Vee – green eyes glittering with unshed tears and blonde hair in a wild cloud atop her head – stared back at me from across the aisle behind Jackson's shoulder. _Concern_ was clear to read on their faces, it practically consumed them.

_Nine-one-one_ I mouthed as I shut my eyes. A tear dared to dribble out of my left eye. Hushed whispers bounced between Jackson and Vee. I didn't catch their conversation clearly but I got the gist. Vee wanted to call nine-one-one thinking I needed stitches. Jackson, ever the survivalist, said Lydia would call since she could see inside the store assuming Vee would make too much noise on the phone.

"Lydia." I agreed, my voice croaking and breaking with every syllable. Vee shook her head, pulling out her phone. The screen lit up on her face. When she hit one button the loud buzz caused Jackson to catch her wrist.

My hearing had improved. My heartbeat was still erratic, wild but the pounding blood had cleared. I heard it slap its body against a shelf. The movement had my eyes darting in the darkness until the red tint illuminated the shelves, heavy wood filled with blocky DVD cases, knocking against each other.

"Dominos." I whispered, not audible enough for either Jackson or Vee to hear me. They heard the shelves, though. Luckily. The impact of the first one clashing against its sequel reverberated in the ground. Loose DVD cases fluttered down against Jackson's shoulder like weighty butterflies. Jackson dared a quick glance over the shelf.

Across from them I could see clearly as the shelves were tipped over, all the belongings they housed raining down in a flashing cloud of colour and banging noise.

They knocked down too swiftly to follow. When the shelf before the one Jackson and Vee were hiding behind tilted on its axis he shoved Vee forward. She cried out as she thudded onto her hands and knees safely away from the falling shelves. Jackson leaped out before the whole thing collapsed onto him. The hefty wood smacked against his legs, his face a mask of pain. Vee screamed. His hands were outstretched before him, pleading. Vee pulled on his hands sitting on her calves desperately making pathetic little noises as she struggled to pull him free.

Animal puffs of breathing loudly huffed from behind Jackson. Vee froze. A low, guttural growl slipped past its throat as if claiming Jackson for himself. Vee whimpered back, crawling backwards towards me. I had planted my back to the sharp corner of the shelf, immobilized by his claws.

Again, the dim lighting didn't allow us to see past the jagged outline of its body. It was shrouded by darkness. Vee's phone peeked out of her pocket. She watched in sheer horror as the thing crept towards its prey; Jackson. I nudged Vee with my foot, pointing at her phone. She nodded, a clear cut movement that made her look brave despite the tear streaks down her cheeks. Vee struggled to keep her cool, eyes fleeting towards my wound as she unlocked the screen. She managed to cover the brightness with her high-top Converses towering over it. She pressed the dial button, 9 was already in place. Lowering the volume she held her thumb pressed against the button until the vibration told her no sound would come. The thing's head snapped up to glare with flaming eyes at us. Vee shrieked back between the shelves, scared moans escaping her lips. She was out of my vision but I trusted her to make the call.

I watched, hypnotized, as the thing's shadow fell across Jackson's face. It was on his back, still clouded by shadows, claw reaching out to his neck. Blood, red and fresh, was still in small drops at the tip of his claws. Carefully, as Jackson panted in short, scared breaths, its claws creaked back the collar of Jackson's leather jacket. It flaming red eyes zeroed-in on the back of Jackson's neck. I craned me neck to see what it was seeing—

A glowing purple sifted up from the darkness between the thing's claws. The purple was like the powder in the pouch I had tossed away when driving to Harvey's house with Derek. The purple was like the flower Patch had crushed under his foot so Vee wouldn't see it, but she had in the end when we were driving away from Harvey's house in Patch's Jeep. The purple glow was from a wound on Jackson's neck. The thing stared at the wound for a long, hard minute before darting behind the shelf I was leaning against, growling. Towards Vee.

"NO." I groaned, dropping to my stomach with my scarf wrapped around my wounded arm tightly. Jackson's wide eyes followed mine as I stared after the thing that had scratched my arm and imprisoned Jackson. Vee was next. "No!" I shouted again, feeling my voice box implode on itself.

Vee shrieked as the red lights painted across her and the thing after her. Her phone was blaring, someone was shouting at the other end of the line. Nine-one-one? I hoped so. Vee screamed, "We're at Video 2 C! Someone's dead—" before the thing knocked the phone out of her hand, somehow, without damaging her. I heard it clatter across the aisle and clang against the fallen silver ladder. The line had gone dead. Were they coming? Where was Lydia?

The thing gnawed on her ankle until she fell over. It was impossible to pierce the darkness that had wrapped around them. But the lights theatrical trick allowed me and Jackson to watch their shadows dance. Vee's shadow lunged away from the thing in the opposite direction playing out on the wall. An arm lashed out but no blood splattered. She fell, again.

Twisting so that she was propped up, looking the thing dead in the eye, by her elbows. The thing opened its mouth. Little sharp rows of teeth, all ground to a clean white bony point, were on display. Its jaw opened wider – wider – wider.

Vee screamed again. Their shadows mixed and the thing went _into Vee's side_. Her arms flailed, fists balling as she pounded the thing's back. I scrambled up and ran for her – for my un-twin.

"Vee!"

My legs quivered as I forced them forward to charge. After a sharp tearing sound, Vee cried out softly. The thing hurtled its powerful body forward past me in a whipping wind. Breaking glass rippled through it as it continued its charging barrage to escape.

Jackson stared after the thing, still trying to wiggle his way out from under the wooden shelf. He called out my name but I wasn't listening. I was still replaying the thing's shadow as it unhinged its jaw from Vee's side. It was a mass of dark fur as it flew past me, but I had caught streaks of blood – not only on his claw and flaming eyes – but on the fur around his jaw and on his gleaming dagger-sharp teeth too. _Please be okay, Vee, please!_

I dropped to my knees, hands tapping her despite the flaring pain

shooting up and down my clawed-up arm. "Vee, Vee please. Please!" I screamed, her name coarse in my throat like I had swallowed bits of fur. "You can't die." The words tumbled out of my mouth, lips forming and voice sounding, along with a whole other bunch of gibbering nonsense. "You're my sister Vee! I love you." I whinged.

"I'm not dead." She sputtered. "Babe." She added. A smile broke onto my face, I felt the clouds part as sunshine beamed through the dark gray clouds after a massive rain. "He got me good." Vee winced as she flicked her blood-specked hair over her shoulder. She pulled the shoulder of her shirt down to reveal a vicious indent of teeth like a circle sliced in the middle. He Bite her on the juncture where the shoulder meets neck. It had been smart enough, if it wanted to keep her alive, or dumb enough, if it wanted to kill her, avoiding her lung.

Sirens blared, low in the distance. Vee covered up her wound, slinging her shirt back so it wouldn't show. The blood was a pretty good indicator, though, and I hoped a deputy would notice it. "Can you walk?" I asked. Vee pulled her knees up to her chest and wobbled up to stand. She held out a hand. Gripping my good arm she pulled me up to stand beside her. "Jackson." I breathed, running over.

He was still breathing hard. "Vee, go see if Lydia's okay."

"She's fine, we need to get this thing off you." She said back, gripping the edge of the shelf. I took the other edge, the shelf was draped over grotesquely along the back of his thighs. He flexed them but it didn't do much good. "One three." Vee said.

One.

Two.

Three.

Vee and I pressed our body weight against the shelf, tilting it upwards with short pants and moans as it strained on our muscles. Together, we had the strength equivalent to Jackson when he had just started working out. He winced. Dragging his elbows along the carpet of the store, Jackson hauled himself out of the shelf's open reach. He gave a wobbly smile.

"We need to call the police." Vee said, determinedly. "That-that _thing_ was not a mountain lion!"

The bell to the store chirped as the door was flung open. "Jackson! Jackson!" Lydia squealed, leaping into his arms with glistening eyes and a watery frown etched into her fine-boned features. Instinctively, without hesitation, Jackson's arms wound around her thin little waist. His sharp jaw rubbed the top of her head. "It broke through the glass." She moaned, voice muffled by his shirt.

When she pulled away two small, clear wet prints were left on his broad chest. He wiped at them with the pad of his thumb unconsciously without looking. Lydia continued, her hands balled into small fists, "It looked like a gorilla. The way it walked was like all fours only its forelegs were more powerful than its hind legs... it was like an ape, not a feline."

Sirens, noticeably louder, grew closer to us with painstaking noise dulling my senses. After a few shattering moments of thick silence, flashing blue and red lights whipped around us in a whirlpool of dizzying brightness. The blue was darker than the red, which looked like the blood on Vee's shirt.

"What are you going to tell them?" I asked her, moving across the store to the front door where Jackson held it open for us. Lydia ducked under his muscley bicep.

Vee didn't answer me.

Two Beacon Hills sheriff cars were parked just outside, scattered multitudinously around Lydia's car. Seeing the scene made Lydia's black car look like a small, black trapped bird between larger, brighter, more menacing-looking birds of prey.

Two officers climbed out of their respective cars. There was only one woman deputy among them. Two of the deputies took Jackson and Lydia away with guns holstered at their hips in clear sight. The other two, the ones questioning Vee and I, were less flashy about their firearms.

They introduced themselves as Deputies Basso and Holstijic. Deputy Holstijic was a short man with salt-and-pepper hair; darker hair in a band from his left temple to right. His waist was perceptibly thicker than the rest of his body.

Deputy Basso was taller – leaner. He was even tall enough for Vee, and if not for the circumstances I was sure she would have had a pass at him. I wasn't sure or not if that was an offence. His deep dark hair was cropped above the ears. Basso's eyes held a steel-like edge, set in his symmetrical face with a Mediterranean complexion.

"Girls, medical professionals will be here soon but in the meantime why don't you tell us what happened." Deputy Holstijic said. Vee and I recounted our similar story with every detail we could muster. Near the end when I mentioned my nausea Deputy Basso cut in.

"You look a little pale, actually. You might have a concussion. Holstijic, call medical. See how long they'll be." He ordered. The older, larger man walked away grumbling into his phone after speed-dialling a number. Deputy Basso's sharp eyes flicked over Vee's shirt. "You have blood on your top." He said, stepping closer into Vee's personal space. He fingered the edge of her frayed shirt, pulling the material closer to inspect.

"It's from her wound. I-I tried to help her but, oh God, there was so much blood." She said, convincingly cupping her face into her hands. Deputy Basso looked uncomfortable, his sharp eyes dulling to a tedious dark colour. He patted her shoulder.

"You did fine, Vee. Now, where did you say you found the body?"

He asked.

"Across from the silver ladder, which was knocked down by Jackson. The lights are still flickering—"

"Don't worry." He responded automatically. "Tell the rest of your story to Holstijic. I'm going in with Deputy Grahame." He gestured to the dark-skinned woman. Her eyes met his and they nodded together, both drawing their guns. Deputy Basso had his in a shoulder holster, I noted.

When the pair had slipped into the flickering store, Holstijic and Deputy Grahame's partner came together between us and Jackson and Lydia. After discussing some things, going over notes I assumed, they called us all over to match sure our stories matched.

The gist of it was that we had found the body and Jackson had accidentally bumped into the ladder supporting the faltering light. That detail was important, otherwise he would be paying for the whole broken system. Not that it was a problem, or even a hiccup, for the Whittemore family.

Then the thing had clawed my arm. After knocking down the shelves on top of Jackson – skipping the part about his glowing neck wound – it shouldered Vee who was aiding my wound at the time. She barely got out of the way before it bit her and barrelled outside where Lydia saw it crashing through the window, "distracted by her phone" she had said. Vee snarled something about selfies before Deputies Basso and Grahame came back.

The ambulance arrived accordingly.

Several paramedics had arrived. Two were dispatched to the dead body inside with Deputy Grahame's partner. The others were assessing our wounds with critical eyes. The woman who lifted my shirt to check for bruising along my back held a nameless authority and crystal cold, harsh beauty that left you breathless.

"There are no visible signs of bruising, at all. You said the impact left you nauseous?"

I nodded.

"That could mean you have a concussion. I don't know how hard you hit your head, but do me one favour please. Look into this light." She produced a small, spherical flashlight the size of her pinkie from her pocket. Its pale yellow light stabbed at my eyes. I looked at her high cheekbones, the white skin stretched over them so perfectly she looked like a doll with her large blue eyes and platinum blonde hair.

"Look again." She instructed with a deep, rough voice. She blinded my other eye, nodding to herself as she assessed my pupils dilation. "You don't have a concussion either. I'd say the trauma was so psychological you felt sick. Often, things like this become physical rather than psychological." I looked into her eyes, blinking away the shiny spots freckled in them by the flashlight. "Nora, you were extremely lucky tonight."

I looked over at my shoulder to a man Vee was arguing with. After one last exasperated sigh he left. Coming right up to them he said, "The one over there won't let me even look at her. She says the blood from her shirt is from this one's wound."

"It is." I interjected. Both medic's calculating looks were swivelled to my direction. "She didn't get hurt at all. The most that happened was Jackson pushing her out of the way when the shelves started tumbling down. The thing didn't even touch her."

My medic's eyes slitted. "You said he barged past her."

"No." I corrected. "I told the Deputies he shouldered her. She avoided getting bitten by him." They nodded in union. The man left to go to Jackson as Lydia sat down beside me in the lip of the ambulance's back door. I patted her thigh. "You okay?"

She nodded.

My medic mouthed, _Should I?_

I shook my head. Lydia wasn't harmed, she had been in her car. The worst that could have happened was her seeing it – really seeing it. Not like the rest of us, when it was dawdled by shadows and flickering lights. She must've seen the thing's whole body – all the blood on it.

Looking over again as my medic went inside the ambulance to get a pair of scissors, I saw Deputy Basso talking to Vee. Deputy Holstijic was massaging the inner corners of his eyes talking to Jackson beside the medic. Soon enough Jackson left them both to stand beside us.

When my medic remerged with a pair of red scissors to cut my scarf open, he yelled at her, "Why can't I leave?"

She responded coolly, "Because we don't know the extent of your damage yet, Mr. Whittemore. Now if you please just tell my co-worker over there what happened, again, he'll decide if you need any further assistance." There was no question to the end of her sentence, no room to argue. Her tone wasn't sugar-coded either, promising he'd get to go soon or have a lollipop afterwards. She didn't command him, instead she spoke to him like an adult and let him _decide_ to walk back to the medic and tell his story again.

Looking around for a third time I saw that Deputy Grahame and her partner were gone. Their car was gone and I had caught a glimpse of the back of their heads as they entered it and drove away. Deputy Basso entered the store to help the medics, I assumed.

But what would they do to the body? Take pictures, analyse what killed him, run prints over his body? This wasn't a regular murder, it was an animal attack. The point of the cold scissors snapped me back to what my medic was doing. She didn't want to unwrap my scarf in case the wound had scabbed and she'd risk infecting it or peeling it off. I had to sacrifice my purple scarf to make sure no further damage came to the claw marks on my arm.

Her hands were sure and steady and she snipped away, three times, at my scarf. Lydia caught the shrivelling scarf as it fell, the task completed. Absentmindedly she rubbed it between her fingers, dried blood printed on it. "You may not want to do that." The medic said. "Blood." She pointed. Lydia jumped and placed it, ever so gently, behind her in the ambulance.

Prodding gingerly, the medic said, "Well, Nora, the wound's not as bad as you made it out to be. Exaggeration is almost always an occurrence in these types of situations, but I'd say, yet again, that you are a very lucky young lady for not suffering a worse fate."

"No stitches?"

"No scars." She said, answering my question indirectly. "You must have avoided the full-on blow—"

"I took a step back."

"What?"

"I took a step back." I repeated. Cocking my head to look at her dazed expression I continued. "When I saw his claws flash in the air over his head, I took a step back. Could've been a lot worse..." I trailed off. I didn't even want to imagine what would have happened if I had felt its full wraith.

"What?" My medic asked. Lydia was intrigued also. When I didn't answer, she said, "You called it a 'he'. You said when you saw _his _claws."

"Oh." I said blankly. "Sorry. Mistake."

"I saw it." Lydia shivered. "It was no _he_. It was a disgusting, ravenous animal."

"Clearly." The medic said, her long fingers trailing up the length of my arm. She didn't dare touch the wound. "But a Band-Aid would do, Nora. You don't have to spend the night in the hospital. You've clotted up the wound and stopped the blood flow pretty successfully. Seems like you saved your own life." She said in a clipped tone. Was she annoyed she had been called without purpose?

Vee had joined Jackson now who was standing a little far off from Lydia – but not that far away. Since she had run inside the store that had been attached by the hip. They were equally co-dependent on each other in the relationship. That much was clear from tonight.

Deputy Basso came out of the well-lit store. They must have fixed the lighting when they went in. The two medics who went with him inside remained inside. I could see the outline of their bodies through the windows, but I didn't want to see what they were doing to the body. The medic in the ambulance climbed out to greet Deputy Basso. They exchanged short dialogue before they entered the store together, leaving me alone with Lydia. Jackson was moving away from the prodding medic towards Lydia and I.

Jumping out of the ambulance to go to Vee I noticed what a crowd had formed just around us. Police and MTs surrounding us blocked most of their gawking faces. As I walked briskly towards Vee, jean jacket removed and Band-Aid clear on my arm, Patch's ebony profile flashed in front of my face, far beyond in the crowd.

A prickling dropped atop my head. Just as quickly as I had seen him, he was gone. "Nora, how's your arm?" Vee asked. Her fingertips touched my elbow. She pulled my arm outwards towards her, squinting to see any further damage. Blood hadn't even seeped through.

"Fine." I tore my arm out of her grasp. "But what about you? Why didn't you tell anyone about your Bite?"

She looked around hysterically before answering, making sure no one was around to hear her hiss, "I don't want anybody finding out, okay? It doesn't even hurt anymore and if my mom finds out, she'll just—"

"_Anymore_? It was hurting before and you didn't tell me? Vee, why?"

"I don't want you to worry. Sure there was blood at first and a sort of glowing sting. Right now, I can't even feel it under my shirt and it's not because of adrenaline – that wore off ages ago. I don't need to flash a medic to know I'm perfectly fine." She sighed.

"Just promise me if it gets any worse, if you feel pain; throbbing or flaring. You tell me, okay?" I asked. "Promise." It came out as a whisper.

"I promise."

The Sheriff's car pulled up, still ringing its police alarm. Lydia was touching Jackson's arm, my medic hovering over the two of them with her hair in a cap now. Deputy Holstijic was there to greet Sheriff Stilinski. Deputy Basso and my medic switched places; now he was inside with the other medics and she was tending to Lydia and Jackson.

"Paul let's get this area locked up." Sheriff Stilinski said to Deputy Holstijic. Paul Holstijic. A shadow flashed inside the Sheriff's police car. Peering closer I saw that it was Stiles.

Sheriff Stilinski was a man of decent age, no older than forty but clearly not in his _early_ thirties anymore. He had visible wrinkles that looked like permanent worry-lines etched into his face. With a sharp profile and eyes not dulled by age, he looked like a very old version of Stiles. His hair, however, was not unlike Stiles' in the way that it looked colourless but was named gray not because of age but because hair needed a name. Stiles only had his hair like that because of his odd buzz cut.

My fingers yearned to thread through Stiles' long brown hair.

Stiles' eyes met mine. They flickered backwards to Jackson who was flailing, speaking hotly. I saw Stiles lips move but couldn't make out what he mumbled to himself. Sheriff Stilinski moved towards us, being instantly barraged by Jackson's ongoing question: "Why the hell can't I just go home? I'm _fine_."

"I hear ya, but the MT says you hit your head pretty hard. They just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion." He said with the patient of a saint. Or the equivalent patience of a man with an ADHD-addled son. Jackson could have a concussion? Was my skull thicker than his? Last time I checked, it wasn't. Not that I actually checked.

"_I'd say, yet again, that you are a very lucky young lady for not suffering a worse fate."_

Jackson's face crinkled over with misunderstood rage. Misunderstanding over the fact no one else understood with trauma as serious as the one we had just witnessed, the best solution was comfy familiar surroundings, not a stale-smelling, stoic hospital filled with crying people and white-clad doctors.

"What part of 'I'm fine' are you having a trouble grasping? Okay? I wanna go home." Jackson pointed beyond, arm going straight as if to signify how faraway home was from here.

"I understand that—"

"No you don't understand!" Jackson snapped. Stiles crept out of his father's car. "Which kinda blows my mind since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you! Okay? Now I, wanna go, home!" For the last slitheringly poisonous word he pronounced Jackson took a step further into the Sheriff's personal space. He remained expressionless for the most part as Jackson took out his confused rage on him. Again, to annunciate his chosen word of home Jackson pointed beyond this place.

Stiles piped up as cameras clicked. For the remainder of Jackson's rampage he stayed quiet with a loathing look in his eyes. I assumed what he screamed was to get Jackson to back off. "Oh wow, is that a dead body?" He asked with forced innocence and a look of realistic interested, pointing. Still, his voice was flat and he seemed too perky to interject. If Jackson noticed he ignored him.

Where they wheeled the body of the dead video store clerk they bumped on a step. His arm, sickeningly, dropped out to lull from the cocoon of white cloth surrounding his decimated remains.

The Sheriff, who had also turned to look, gave Stiles a fatherly expression of relief and thankfulness, being saved by his son from more of Jackson's poisoned words, and of disappoint and general disapproving from him betraying his trust getting out of the car to gawk and stare and even yell out so the cameras would start to click.

Stiles in return recoiled in on himself, folding into the car and giving an apologetic look as if to say _you're welcome_ but _I won't do it again_.

"Everybody back up. Back up." The Sheriff ordered, going as far as pushing people back when they clustered around the four of us (Jackson, Vee, Lydia and I) too long. I felt a wave of thankfulness crash over me. When his eyes met mine I retuned the weak smile he gave me.

I imagined this is what Stiles would be like in the future if he were to be chipped away by the things he would have seen had he followed his father's lifestyle.

A guy came out of the store wrapping it up in police yellow tape. My eyes stayed glued to Stiles, soaking in his every frantic movement with clear adore. So much so that Vee ended up nudging me, but not for the reason I initially thought. She pointed to the dark sky unfolded above us.

My head tipped up to see the inky furl of a pen scrawled too much over the once robin-egg's blue page. I looked down again and scuttled my shoes but she nudged and pointed once again with more urgency. When I looked into her eyes I noticed why. She was trying to be covert.

So I followed the invisible line stringing together the end of her pointing finger to wherever it was she was pointing at. When I finally reached it all I saw were two familiar shapes cast silhouettes against the dark sky. One was achingly bulky covered by a leather jacket that seemed to stretch over his broad shoulders. Even with his back to me his dark hair gave him away. Derek. I would have guessed he was Patch, had Derek not been so muscular.

The second one, the one crouched low to not be seen despite how shamelessly Derek stood, was visible smaller despite his crouch. He was also thinner, not skinnier as such but thin and sharp like a sword. Appropriately he wore a dark jacket. As he turned around following Derek I saw that just above his hood a familiar bundle of brown wavy curls were plastered to his neck. Scott.

Once they had both vanished from the rooftop I turned to glance at Vee questioningly. How had she seen what nobody else had? Her fine eyebrow was raised just as questioningly as my expression. I knew I couldn't start doubting her as well as all the other people, since she had not lied to me the way everyone else – by everyone else I meant my mom – had.

* * *

My mom was hesitant to let me go to Vee's house the very next day. She protested that it was God's day – Sunday – and that I needed and deserved the rest it inspired. I argued back that we were never a very religious family, not since dad had died, and left with a hard slam of the door.

I tried to ignore her gaping face as I whizzed past her in my car. She didn't understand why I was being so cold. She didn't know I knew I was adopted and that my parents had divorced shortly before his death.

Driving to Vee's house gave me time to think. Time to finally mull over any excuses as to why they kept these things secret from me. For the adoption it was pretty self-explanatory why they would adopt me. Either they couldn't have kids on their own or somebody they knew gave me up and they raised me themselves. That I understood, and was in fact appreciative for. But lying to me about it, that was the unacceptable part.

A small part of my mind, the part that always let the guilt in whenever I did something bad, defended my parents. She told me to not be so selfish, that if I didn't know I shouldn't try to know because maybe they were waiting for me to turn eighteen when I could decide for myself as an adult if I wanted to continue living with them or not.

I told her to shut up because she sounded freakishly similar to Ms. Morrell.

But if I did think about it that was the only plausible explanation as to why they would keep it a secret. Eighteen. They year I was a legal adult and could make my own decisions. Even though I could drive at sixteen I suppose it wasn't the same thing as leaving home to look for my real parents. If they were even alive today. My father wasn't. Maybe his murdered killed my real parents too.

I forced myself to stop thinking such grim thoughts, focusing on driving. Yesterday night had opened a dark floodgate in my mind, one that had once housed all the unshed blood and tears I had never witnessed personally. Up until now it was closed shut with a screw bolt, but now that I had seen my best friend being Bitten by a horrible evil thing that was definitely not a mountain lion and stumbled upon the waxy face of a dead body... I just wasn't the same. And neither was my mind.

That's why the reasons for their divorce were so dark to me. My dad cheated. My mom cheated. I was the reason they stayed together, begrudgingly. They were bound together by some unnatural blood oath, the possibilities were endless. But they all involved a little blood, after last night everything red was bloodred to me.

Vee jumped out of her house to greet me as I parked, an action so uncharacteristic the thought _she's not my best friend_ skittered by my mind.

I locked the car and followed her inside. Looking around I voiced my perception that no one was home. She hummed in response, her back was to me. When she turned around I saw that she was holding a slice of toast layered by strawberry jam. A gust of wild from outside shuffled some post-it notes on the refrigerator, so I closed the still-open front door.

"You hungry?" Vee asked, bringing up her slice of toast the way someone might holding a glass of alcohol when a person yells _cheers!_ I shook my head. She shrugged.

We sat at the kitchen table for a while. She didn't say anything so I didn't say anything back. Instead I listened to the crunch of her bites of toast. My brain, finally repulsed by the dark thoughts from earlier was just beginning to filter them. But it let one slide. Bite.

"How's your Bite?" I blurted out. The sound travelled faster to her ears than I could catch the words if they had formed as letter in the air and swayed towards her. She flinched at the harsh sudden sound after so many minutes of silence. I waited for an answer but I never came, so I repeated the question. Twice.

My hand went over to tap her on the shoulder, wrap around her wrist, do something, but she got up before I could touch her. Feeling like I was lit aflame I got up too and watched her bang the single dish she used to place three pieces of toast – each with different toppings – into the sink.

"Vee?" I asked tentatively. All I got in reply was a soft whimper, her shoulders shaking. "Vee?" I asked again, stepping closer to her. She flinched, jumping away from me as I took a second step. Vee's house's floors were hardwood so it was natural that steps with shoes would make noise but they weren't as loud as she was making them out to be. Were they?

"Don't... don't step so loud." She muttered. I sighed, unable to understand her at this point. She was avoiding me because I was stepping too loud. Why did she flinch? Why was she so scarred of me all of a sudden? "Don't breath too loud either." She commented in that same little girl voice. She was still scared.

"I just sighed."

"Loudly." Vee said, not missing a beat between breaths. I glanced at the digital clock on the counter of the table. Its red lights blinked 4:30 back at me. Almost nineteen hours since we last saw each other. Five hours left until it had been twenty four hours since we last saw a dead body.

Impatient, I said, "Vee lift up your shirt."

She scowled at me. "Do it." I snapped.

With trembling fingers she gripped the hem of her shirt. I felt like holding my breath but fought against it. Each second that ticked by she revealed more and more of her skin to me, creamy white but not what I was looking for.

I lunged at her, callously gripping her neckline and dropped it low – past her collarbone so I could see the strap of her bra. Nothing. Nothing was there. No white shiny scar as if the incident had happened a month ago, no pink soft flesh as if it had happened a week ago. Instead, smooth skin stared back at me stretched perfectly over her bones without a blemish. Frowning, she slapped my hands away.

I felt numb.

I knew I hadn't imagined her getting Bitten by that thing, I remembered Jackson's face; the sheer horror in his eyes from watching their shadows play out. Its jaw clamped over her shoulder and then released her, leaving a Bite. She got away with only a Bite. Only now, not even that.

"It healed." Vee said. "I went to bed with gauze over it. My mom bought some when I came home. They all went shopping today, except me. They told me to rest. I don't know how I'm going to explain to my mom and dad how there's no Bite, no scar." I think I heard her sniffle. "My brother will probably think it's cool. Think I'm one of the X-Men or something."

Despite her shirt covering it I brushed my thumb over the spot the indented teeth marks should be.

A flash of steely gray fur bolted in the corner of my eye. Vee saw it too. Our heads turned to glare at the cat hissing at us. It leaped inside, gracefully landing on its paws, from the open window. Stalking towards us, hissing nonetheless, its paws clicked against the wood. Vee's hands went over her ears. Mine almost did too.

All that was in her house was clicking. Of the clock. Of the cat's paws. Just clicking, ticking, clicking.

Its fur was bristled like a toothbrush. The long stream of white fur that rolled down its back and followed to its tail wasn't swishing. I never met a cat whose tail wasn't swishing. This cat was hostile though, not the ones I'm used to that brush up against my naked ankles begging for a scratch.

When it was close enough, it dived towards us. The ball of grey fur, still provokingly hissing, darted with gleaming eyes and extended claws ready to mark. I had already taken several steps back from the cat, but it wasn't after me.

It took a swipe at Vee's legs. She flashed behind it, snarling almost, and gripped the base of its tail. The cat gave a painstaking meow, claws curving to swipe at her shirt. Vee let her hold on its tail loosen so the cat delve down with sickening speed. It meowed, taking a break from its threatening hisses. When Vee's grip was solid again she held it at a safe length.

Despite the pain from behind held upside down by the tail the cat never stopped fighting her as Vee took it back to the window. It threw its weight around, left to right, spastically with sharp movements that I would worry it would catch Vee's skin. A dark part of me, perhaps the part that thought those horrible thoughts, wanted it to scratch her. I felt the need to watch her bleed so to explain why the Bite healed so fast. Maybe all I wanted was to see the cat scratch her so I could watch Vee's skin stitch together just as it had with the Bite.

Its curved claw slung to her shirtsleeve as she threw the cat back out the window. With its other paw it slammed down on the window sill, the curvature of the claw making it so that it couldn't get a firm grip on the peeling paint. Vee shook it off her arm and with a descending growling meow the cat fell – to its feet probably.

After a while, "That cat really didn't like you."

"Well, now it smells." She replied, in an equally clip and cold tone.

"Of cat?" I asked.

"Yes." She said simply. After she sprayed the place with her brother's Lynx deodorant, we went about doing what we would normally do as if nothing ever happened. I didn't mention the Bite, she didn't either. In fact, we barely talked at all. The seldom moments were did we steered clear from all depressing subjects i.e. my adoption, parent's divorce, the dead body, Stiles, Derek, Scott, Jackson, Lydia, Ms. Morrell, Patch, the powder I threw away to gain Derek's trust, Harvey leaving etcetera.

By the time she led me to my car it was 5:30. I had only spent an hour at Vee's. Part of the reason was because I had to see Allison for our French assignment by 6'oclock. The other part was... the awkwardness. Vee and I had never had a short list of things to talk about, ever, so there were never any awkward silences. But today...

I felt incredibly selfish. During the time all those things were happening to me she had been there for me, supported me and helped me through them. Now, with us seeing a dead body and Vee miraculously healing under record time from a Bite delivered by the horrible _mutt _killing things, I felt like I couldn't deal with the sudden appearance of Vee's baggage.

A dog from across the yard began to yowl, which ascended into sharp barks as Vee followed me outside. I frowned as I got into the car. I looked up at Vee to find her scowling.

At first I thought she was just scowling her famous scowl at the neighbour for letting the dog bark like a madman. But looking closer the lines of her face had changed. Seriousness drained her infamous scowl and reduced it to something resembling a primal mask.

Her eyes flashed.

Iridescent golden, mellow amber, vivid jonquil.

Vee's eyes were yellow. Irises with bold lines but glowing brightly, jazzily, yellow. In her eyes I feel something. Something deep and dark and dangerous. The shade of yellow was so bright and shimmering I couldn't stop staring. But I was scared.

Because those were the eyes of a wolf.

I blinked.

She looked at me with a smile, padding the hood of my car. The dog had stopped barking. It submitted away, yapping into his house whimpering. Vee's eyes, green this time, weren't so bright in comparison to her golden ones. They were boring, average. Her honey golden eyes shifted at the sight of a dog, but now as her green eyes stared back into my pale grey ones I wanted to shiver.

As I pulled away from her street, making the ten blocks to mine and then to Allison's, all I could think about was how Derek's eyes had changed and flashed blue.

* * *

I was waiting for Allison's call to tell me to come over, so naturally I jump at the sound of my phone ringing. Finding Derek on the other end of the line makes my skin crawl after thinking about his blue eyes so hard. Then it occurred to me, did I give him my number?

"Wrong side of the bed?" He asked. My blood warmed at the thought of his mouth pressing so close to the phone. I could practically _smell_ his breath, hear the fogging as it brushed the black surface of his phone. I cringed at how comfortable he sounded, so casual talking to me that it made my head spin with rage. Just the reaction he wanted probably. Breathing deeply, pressing the phone to my chest so he couldn't hear my slow, uneven breaths, helped me relax a little bit. Vibrations were sent through my chest. I glared at my phone. The number was still unknown.

"Is there a right side?"

"Probably not with you." He retorted.

"What do you want, Derek?" I snapped.

He sighed – as if _he _was doing _me_ the favour. "It's about what you saw. Yesterday." He clarified. I didn't talk. We just listened to each other breath before he continued, "Are you okay?" The question springs various more to mind. Such as _why does he care if I'm okay? _and _what was he doing on that rooftop?_ Unfortunately, I probably couldn't ask those questions and get a direct answer from him.

"Do you honestly care?" I didn't like how comfortable my voice – and mind – was all of a sudden. Derek Hale just had that affect. He crawled under your skin, worming his way in unorthodoxly, and refused to pop out again. I scratched the bag of my hand, tip of my lips curling into a smile as he sighed an aggravating sigh.

"Of course I _care_." Derek's voice crack with reel, raw... emotion? I startled at how harsh and sharp his voice was, despite the soft intentions behind it. I felt my hand go over my heart, not knowing if my body was betraying me in a sincere act or if instead my mind was already working to mock him and my body was preparing to act. "Why wouldn't I?" He pressed. I felt the ice underneath my feet melt further. Cobwebs spread through it as it cracked. The ice is melting, the ice I put up to shield myself from him. And he's found a way turn it into meltwater.

"That's a stupid question." I responded. My voice was wavered like a pond after a stone had been thrown in. Rippling. My voice was rippling. "Considering."

"What? Considering what?"

"All that's happened lately."

"You mean the mountain lion?" His voice, a sudden change from the emotion he just caged in it a moment ago, was terse. Like he had chosen his words carefully and was pronouncing everything very slowly to get his message across directly. I knew that even he didn't believe it was a mountain lion.

"Do you believe that?" I asked, letting in all the desperation I felt from all the _not knowing_ that was driving me crazy. I think I heard him shake his head, like I would hear Vee roll her eyes over the phone. The closeness we had developed in the short span was alarming. But, yet again, I guess that was part of Derek Hale's charm: how forward he was. Unlike a certain Sheriff's son.

"Do you know what it is?" I asked, desperation whirpooling into something beyond extreme anxiety, sounding shook up. I felt him nod. "Can you tell me?" He shook his head. "Do I have to find out myself?" I didn't wait to feel any rustling to indicate if he shook his head or not. I just snapped. "Why do people want me to find out? Why can't they just tell me?"

"I—"

"How am I supposed to find out what's happening when no one will tell me?" My cheeks burned. "And I keep seeing things and hearing things that don't make sense! Eyes changing colour, purple flowers and powder and a _thing that bit my best friend!"_

If Derek Hale would ever gasp, this would have been the time. But he didn't. He made a noise that constituted as gasping for Derek Hale. Which was all the more frightening.

"Your friend was Bitten by it?" The last word, _it_, was soaked in so much poison I was sure it could kill a baby elephant. I fought the urge to flinch at the undertone of his words.

"Yeah." I sobbed, unknowingly. "But the Bite's healed already. And she's acting—"

"Who is it?"

"V-Vee Sky."

"Tell her the full moon's in less than a week." Derek said, before hanging up. Full moon. Eyes. Animals. Claws. "What's the common denominator?" Derek asked, mockingly reminding me I was still an inferior student. I jumped, did I imagine him hanging up? "C'mon Nora." He continued, as if he had had this conversation thousands of times before.

"I... I don't know!" I screamed. I felt sick. I was tired. I just wanted to curl up in my bed and fall asleep, then tomorrow everything would be fine again. No changing eyes, no Derek and no Scott acting so strangely. "Animals, full moon... Luna, lunatic..." Fangs. Fangs and claws raced through my mind. "Lycanthropy."

Now he hung up.

* * *

Allison called about thirty minutes after, which wasn't enough time to research lycanthrope sufficiently. She texted me her address. I wandered around town for a bit before finally finding her house and pulling up into her U-shaped driveway. But all I could think about was lycanthrope. More specifically, cynanthropy – weredogs instead of wolves. It made logical sense – the cat not liking Vee, her command over the dog and her eyes changing.

Allison, all dark curls and slender curves, came out of her massive house to greet me. She smiled. Her spacious house, which was a perfect replica of all the others on her street, looked Victoria in design from the outside. Inside, however, it looked achingly modern. Allison pushed the red coloured door closed behind her, waved to her father and mother – presumably – who were talking in the kitchen. I waved too and followed her up the wood staircase.

A portly blonde woman – hair just as curly as Allison's – meandered down the steps. She smiled devilishly, waved warmly to me, and proceeded to enter the kitchen where Mr. and Mrs. Argent were still talking awfully loudly. The woman had the elegance of a ballet dancer and moved just like one. She was tall, despite her boots, and had sharper curves in contrast to Allison's. Her skin was flushed healthily, brows matching her dirty blonde hair. Her eyes were a colour I couldn't make out in the brief encounter we had, but the devilish curve of her lips, soft and pink, looked sinful.

Once we were inside Allison's room she told me, "That was my aunt Kate. She's here visiting." She said dazzlingly. It seemed the Argent family were all blessed in the good looks department.

"Horrible timing." I joked, half-heartedly. A grim look passed Allison's face. She probably thought I was a masochist or something. Brightly, she waved an arm around her room.

Boxes were bundled in a few corners. "How long have you been here?" I asked, sitting down beside her on the springy bed. Allison toed off her shoes and flung herself over the side of the bed sprawled comfortably. She glanced over at me, quirked an eyebrow and patted her side. I copied her and flopped down onto my stomach, skirt spilling outwards around me. She held a French book in her hands.

"Just over a month. But I'm taking my time." She said, sounding like she had said it over, like it was practiced. Had she really had _that_ many people in her bedroom? That didn't put her in such good light. "I like your dress." She commented, fingering the hem.

"Thanks," I responded, looking down instinctively. After that, we talk in French for about half an hour before Allison grunts. "You okay?"

"I'm a bit tired."

"Should I go?"

"No, I just need a snack. Hold on, I'll be back in a second." She said, sliding up off the bed and slinking downstairs. The door was open a crack so I heard her steps as she went into the kitchen. Her parents and aunt seemed to clam up around her, silence clouded them until a female voice, chirpy and singsong, asked how the studying was going.

I don't hear Allison's reply but I catch a name after a deep voice – her father? – speaks. Scott McCall. He asked why she wasn't studying with him anymore. Disheartedly, Allison's quiet reply was about a French assignment, not that the couple had broken up.

She sauntered back upstairs and softly clicked the door behind her. Propping herself up with pillows beside me, she offered a bag of chips to me. I burst mine open, like she did, and started eating slowly. After that we drank our drinks and ate tuna fish sandwiches talking about the assignment.

"I didn't mean to eave's drop, but I heard your dad downstairs talking about Scott."

"Yeah," Her eyes glazed over. "He doesn't like him much. I don't really know why, he's just so overprotective. I never really dated much, I mean I had this plan." She gestured calming and coolly with her hands as she spoke. "No boyfriends until college where I'd go live on campus, because my family just moved way too much. But that was before I met him."

"Scott?"

"Yeah. He's just... so different." She spoke in a mild way, one that didn't want to oversell her love. But I could tell how much she was restraining herself from trying to be a typical teenage girl in love who hated her father for not liking her boyfriend. I touched her exposed shoulder endearingly.

"I know what you mean." I said and another few seconds of silence ticked by. "It's the same way with me and Stiles."

"Stiles and I." Allison corrected.

"Do you have to do that?"

"Sorry." She said, looking down. Dark curls fell forward from behind her ear. She stroked them back. I caught a flash of dark blue painted nails. A few more seconds of silence. "So Stiles huh?" She asked in a teasing tone, elbowing me lightly in the ribs.

"Yeah." I admitted, feeling a hue of pink tint my ears. Allison stared at them.

"For how long?"

"Since, well, since school started. This year." I clarified. Allison nodded.

"Have you told him?" She asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"He doesn't feel the same way I do." I said. "Besides, everybody knows he's had a crush on Lydia since, like, the eighth grade. I mean how am I supposed to compete with your best friend?"

Her curved eyebrows shot up. "Lydia doesn't even give him the time of day. I'm sure if you just talk to him and let him get to know you he'll fall for you." She said with a sunny smile. "Besides," She added, "You've got killer legs. How come you never show them off, they're definitely your best feature?"

My eyebrows arched.

"Not that you don't have a lot of good qualities—"

"Allison, I know what you meant." I said, laughing. I tapped her elbow lightly rocking her onto her heels. "I just never see the point in dressing up."

"How about Stiles?"

"For him? Dress up for him? He doesn't even like me that way." I said.

"You don't know that. Scott's his best friend, I'm sure if anyone'll know he would." She said. "Want me to talk to him about it?"

"No." I answered slowly. "I'll just... wear this new skirt tomorrow."

Allison grinned.

* * *

Monday morning two sharp knocks at the door jittered me awake from my prone form over my coffee cup. Last night, I had left Allison's house pretty late. Dorothea even called my mom. I had to explain to her we were doing a French assignment and that I honestly bonded immensely with the girl. I really liked her.

My mood soured as I swung open the door. Deputy Paul Holstijic and Deputy Basso stared back at me. Basso cleared his throat. "Nora." He said in greeting, dark eyes flitting behind my shoulder to the empty farmhouse. "Home alone?"

"Mom comes in today during school. Is something wrong?" I asked, widening the door back on its hinges. Both Deputies stepped inside without so much as a nod. Deputy Basso lingered on the stairs while Deputy Holstijic eyed up my cup of coffee. "Want me to make you one?" I asked politely.

"No, I'm afraid we're here strictly on business." He answered._ Like there'd be another reason_.

"So what's the issue?"

"Marcie Millar – you know Marcie, right? – was found beaten up last night." Deputy Holstijic said grimly. I could tell he was a family man.

"Marcie was beat up?" I asked in disbelief. Sure, she had some enemies after the countless boy's hearts she had broken and girl's popularities she had destroyed. But I never guessed someone would go this far. I never knew a moment in her life when Marcie wasn't bitchy to me but I didn't mean her any harm. After all, with a family like the Millars who probably get mercury poisoning from all the expensive seafood they eat, I guess that was part of her charm.

"So beat up she couldn't move. Elliot Saunders found her." Deputy Basso said, in a more carefree – but still professionally distant – tone. His eyes scanned me up and done. Sizing my weight up? "Where were you last night?"

I had watched enough CSI to know my rights. "Am I a suspect?"

"You're one of the few people who's classified as her enemy. You and Vee Sky. Along with Lydia Martin and a few other girls at Beacon Hills High."

"A few?" I snorted. "I shouldn't even be surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Deputy Holstijic barked, like a pug unhappy with the quantity of food dropped into his bowl.

"Nothing." I answered automatically. It meant that if Marcie gave a convincing sob story, they would eat it up as eagerly as they would take money from her father, Hank Millar. I wouldn't be surprised if they did. I had no illusions. "I was over at Allison Argent's house, studying."

"Can she back you up?" Basso asked.

"Her as well as her father, mother and aunt." I responded.

"Do you know anyone who might have hurt her? Anyone with a big enough grudge? Cheerleader with a lacrosse boyfriend?" Deputy Basso asked, voice growing harder. Deputy Holstijic leaned against him, gripping his shoulder. What was going on?

"No." I said, knowing full well they meant Lydia. But I didn't believe she would have Jackson beat up Marcie – for whatever reason I knew that Jackson wouldn't do it anyway. Besides, with all that stuff that happened on Sunday I doubted either were in their right mind. I was still reeling, for sure.

"You sure Nora? Anyone she might have pissed off? I know that in my time at high school, which wasn't really that long ago, there were girls like her who were just begging for it. Was Marcie begging for it, Nora? Do you think she deserved what she got?" Deputy Holstijic gave Basso a disapproving look.

I stepped forward, uncrossing my arms, to meet his dark, steely gaze head on. I was proud of myself; didn't even flinch. "What kind of a question is that?" I demanded.

"I apologise for my partner's behaviour." Deputy Holstijic said robotically. Basso took a step back. Holstijic sat on the couch across from me. I took a seat too.

"We just find the weapon used very _unusual_." Basso said as he left the room to explore the house. I knew he needed a permit to search, so I stood up to reach for my coffee, keeping an eye on his wondering form.

"What kind of weapon was used?" I asked Holstijic.

"Something that resembled claws." He said.

"What?" I whispered.

"Claws. We found claws marks. The lacerations were pretty deep too, with bruising over her stomach and wrists. We think someone may have pinned her down – a two person job maybe."

"Well I don't know anything about it." I threw the coffee mug into the sink. The dark liquid spewed over the rest of the newly made dishes, spattering drops of rich-scented, black coffee. "I'm late for school." I added, putting pressure behind my voice. "I'd appreciate it if you leave so I can go."

"Of course." Deputy Holstijic said, knees popping as he stood up from his seat. He called out to Basso who only gave me his broad back as he left. The car careened out of the driveway in a flash of dizzyingly bright colours and noise.

* * *

"No way." Vee half-screamed. "Holy freakshow." She added for good measure. "I wonder who did it." She was sounding like herself again, wonderfully untroubled and not wasting a second without putting in chitchat.

"It's Marcie, any number of people could have done it. I haven't even gotten to the good part yet." I said, pausing for effect. Vee slammed her locked shut, pressing a thick textbook to her chest as her eyes gleamed. She was enjoying this way too much. "Elliot found her. They didn't say where but they said that she was so beat up she couldn't move."

"Elliot? Really? Wow." She paused. "I can't believe it. What was he doing around Marcie? Or did he stumble over her?" She giggled to herself over the thought. Good old Vee.

"I think he stumbled. They seemed like they really were clueless about her. Don't you think it's a little odd that she was beaten up a day after the video store clerk was killed?"

"How did you make _that_ connection?"

"This kind of stuff isn't common in Beacon Hills. Deputy Holstijic said they found claw marks. _Claw marks_." I said. Vee cringed.

"You don't think—"

"I do think." I interjected.

"It could just be a ruse so she skips parent-teacher conferences. I hear she's failing a lot of classes." Vee said, optimistically.

I frowned. "You really think Marcie would go to that much trouble to not get grounded? Actually – never mind. Stupid question. But only one of her cheerleader lackies would know."

"Or Elliot." Vee said, slipping into first period chemistry. Mr. Harris stared intently as we walked by, apparently a few minutes late. But he didn't say anything. Nobody did. They just sat there, gawking at us like we had dark clouds puffed up with rain visibly lurking over our heads. I didn't like the attention, especially in this type of negative light. Usually, Marcie would make some dumb blonde comment to break the ice and embarrass me. I actually missed her, right now.

Even Stiles, who held a highlighter lid adorably in his pouty pink lips, stared. I looked at the skirt I wore – the skirt approved by Allison who wasn't even here. It was a cross between casual and slinky with faded purple spots almost covering the white silk entirely.

Once we were seated all the students turned back around in their seats and scribbled Mr. Harris's latest notes from the chalkboard. He came up to us and whispered, "If there's anything I can do for you girls, please just let me know." In the softest voice I had ever heard him speak in.

He left, cracking the chalk over the board again and insistently reminding us of parent-teacher conferences. Vee and I both had to come. She because she was failing chemistry and I because I was failing biology.

Just as Mr. Harris, hands on hips, asked if anyone had seen Scott – pointedly looking over at Stiles who was colouring in his whole textbook in yellow highlighter – Jackson meandered through the door nervously. He was wearing a dark gray shirt, two buttons down, and a leather jacket over that. Smooth black over dark gray fashioned with loose, sagging dark blue jeans. His backpack was slung over one shoulder. He looked so weak and defenceless, like when I had squeezed him into a hug upon seeing him hold a glove with Derek – dark and dangerous in the background – loitering after being let out of jail.

Jackson took a hesitant seat over on the table beside mine and Vee's. Across from us – on Vee's side – was Danny who was now peering across trying to lock eyes with his best friend. Mr. Harris, like he had done with Vee and I, silently strode over to Jackson and spoke in a hushed whisper to him, gently patting his shoulder.

Stiles' voice was low and soft but still audible as he asked Danny questions, much to Danny's annoyance. After a few questions about Lydia and Jackson, Vee and I he asked Danny – loudly – if he thought he was attractive. Derek's comment about Stiles, which had made me doubt his sexuality, wrung true to my ears.

Stiles wasn't interested in my killer legs.

Stiles wasn't interested in anyone other than Lydia.

Because she was Danny's best friend's girlfriend.

And he had a crush on Danny.

Vee sniggered after class when I told her what I thought about Stiles obvious ignorance. He was ignoring me, what was I supposed to think? All the signs pointed that he played for the other team. He even flat-out asked Danny if he thought he was attractive!

"Maybe he's just curious. Bi-curious." Vee shrugged. "More common than not, in today's world. Anyway, don't be beat down by it. Most guys are bi and still have girlfriend. I bet I can list ten celebs who are and who have." She said, starting to count on her fingers as she named unknown celebrities to me. But I wasn't paying attention anymore. I was watching Jackson walk into the boy's locker room.

"Nora? What are you staring at?" She poked my shoulder, leaning up against the lockers. "The boy's locker room?" She crinkled her nose mockingly.

"I just have to go see someone." I said.

Vee grabbed my wrist. "You can't go in there." Everything about the atmosphere changed. I felt the blood drain from my fingers, hot pain flaring through my wrist bones. "Nora, you can't." I tried to yank free but the bruising grip she held was enough to crush the bone to a fine white powder. I squealed.

"Vee let go." Time slowed as I screamed. Vee's fingers unwrapped from my wrist, the suction letting up. Familiar faces bobbed into visions as I glared at Vee. I felt Patch at my shoulder and Stiles watching from across the hallway. Vee looked oddly at me, awkwardly standing with her fingers curled so hard they were shaking in balled fists.

"Vee, are you okay?" Patch asked, pushing me behind him as he stepped up to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but she smacked him away with a strikingly sharp blow. She grunted. Then, turning on her heel, she was gone in a flash of blonde hair and bright clothes. I was stunned. Students around us resumed their motions and talking.

From the corner of my eye I dared a quick peek at Stiles, who was glaring shamelessly. I turned to look at Patch, who held his hand towards his chest, clad in black. "What's her problem?" He spat, fingers trembling.

I sighed as I said, "I don't know," Then reached out to unlace his fingers from his hand. Three cuts laced the skin on the back of his hand, skimming hi knuckles and ranging horizontally. "Ohmigod, Patch!"

"She needs to cut her nails." He growled, swiping away the rising red.

"Claws."

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing, nothing." I muttered. "Look, I'm sure if you go to the nurse she'll give you a Band-Aid or something. But I really got to go." Realising how ungrateful I sounded I spun back around to face him; he was still standing there with his hand balled up to his chest with a quivering lip. "Thanks." I said before disappearing down the hall. I closed my eyes and breathed in a few deep, steady breaths before –

Stiles' pale face swam into my vision. "Hi!" He said, waving. My eyes had just opened, adjusting to the lifting smile of his cheeks pleasantly.

"Hi?"

"I wanted to talk to you." He said, taking my elbow and steering me down the wall – away from Jackson. "About Vee."

My heart sank.

Of course. Stiles.

Of course he wanted to talk about someone else.

"Can I just do something real quick?" I asked, pressing my palm against his forearm until it clapped against the wall. He startled, then nodded. I grinned, seeing my reflection in his sweet eyes, sweet enough to eat. I leaned my shoulder against his chest until his back met the wall. He gave a frantic flail of limbs before my chest was crushed against his. I was just tall enough to reach the crook of his neck, I noted.

His eyes ran down the length of my legs, then, alarmed, sprang up to my face. I brushed back a curl that had fallen loose form the clasp at my neck and leaned in. I heard him gasp before my lips pressed against his. The sweetest, lightest, feathery kiss passed between us – he only _just _returned the pressure so that I knew he was kissing me back but he didn't seem overly eager about it.

My hands went up his firm sides, fingers clawing at the white T-shirt underneath the open gray shirt he wore. I felt a trickle of brushing fingertips at my neck, the very nape where hairs rose from the sensation. Then my hair was flooding my face, framing and covering our necks and blushing cheeks.

With the clasp still in his hand, he trailed it over my spin and let it rest against my right hip. Stiles seemed to follow the bumps and ridges of my spine until his finger hooked inside my skirt so that his nail licked against my hip bone. I jumped. I felt him grin into our butterfly-light kiss. Then my knee dropped from between his thighs and his hands went around my waist, possessively. I gripped his shoulders as he lifted me and manhandled me into the position he had just been in.

Stiles pushed me up against the wall, high enough so that the school's drinking water fountain rested just under my buttocks. I laughed loudly, a short sound from my head being thrown backwards at the thought of Stiles' uncomfortable face. Not because of my forwardness, but because his ass had been pressed against the water fountain at such a painful angle I was sure he'd been bruised. He didn't laugh as much as me, but a few chuckles later was all he gave me as a breather. Then his mouth was on mine again, thumbs caressing my cheekbones. My legs were on either side of him as he pressed his body against mine over the water fountain.

I pulled him closer to me, wanting to mesh us together so that nobody knew where he began and where I ended. My fingers left his belt loops and circled his neck. Stiles tasted like Doublemint gum and Twizzlers in one spicy, but sugary, breath.

A heated kiss proceeded. His lips were cushioned against mine, crushing them forcefully against my parted ones until I felt his tongue sneak inside my mouth. He dragged his satiny tongue against the roof of my mouth, slowly and teasing. I nibbled on it with my blunt teeth until I felt him groan rich and deep against me. His lips, cherry sweet and candy soft, slipped across the skin of my cheek until they rested against my neck.

"My legs are going numb." I blurted out, against his jaw. We were so close that I could smell his vanilla body spray. He started laughing, narrow shoulders shaking and high-pitched whimpering sounds slipping past his reddened lips. I felt my galloping heart rate against his hot, wet lips as they left my pulse-point – brushing past me jaw to sneak one last kiss.

This kiss sent waves of awe crashing through me uncontrollably. I felt something warm seep through my chest, tingling my fingertips all the way to my toes. This wasn't a soft kiss or an eager kiss – it was a slow, passionate kiss that left me writhing for more. My fingers were gripping his shoulders when he disentangled himself from me. I dropped onto my feet with a plopping sound, breathless.

I thought he was going to kiss me again when he leaned so close I could see the narrow planes of his chest through his white T-shirt. Instead his sweaty forehead bumped against mine and his thumb stroked my cheek longingly. I brought my hand up to press flatly against his chest. My palm was over his right nipple – I could feel his erratic heartbeat, just as erratic as mine. A grin cleaved my face in two again, making me feel like an idiot despite having Stiles mirroring my grin with his forehead plastered against mine.

"Now, what about Vee?"


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6: HEART MONITOR

By Tuesday the following morning, I was convinced my parents weren't divorced when my father was shot. The documents you keep after a divorce include financial documents, checks or money orders, marriage licence, settlement agreement and final judgment from the divorce. A last will and testament is not important enough to keep, so I ruled that out.

In my father's drawers are only the papers to file a divorce, and although my parents both signed it I'm guessing they called it off. The papers would be needed to be given to the divorce attorney and/or the court of law. They weren't given in. My parents called off the divorce that was filed two years prior to the death of my father.

State of California marriage papers lie beside it, Blythe and Harrison Grey printed proudly on the blue outlined page. I smile to myself, feeling comfort in the fact my father kept it in his office. The sound of my mom purring softly in the next room reminded me that she had never walked into this office. Not once. Dust still covered the top of his cherry wood desk. The files inside his drawers were the only pieces of his life left that were brushed over because I had laid my destructive oiled fingers on them.

My adoption papers, however, are as legit as they come. On the left half side of the landscape paper is my picture as a round-cheeked baby. My eyes aren't open, but I'm old enough to have hair covering my head. Harrison and Blythe Grey have both written their signatures but where the signatures of my real parents should be it only says in bold print: ANONYMOUS. My face is etched into a permanent frown trying to figure out why my real parents wouldn't even want their names on the document. Maybe my adoptive parents knew my biological parents.

I couldn't ask my mom about it. Not with everything that has been going on lately. She'd just freak out. The Beacon Hills Adoption Agency's address is located so far away from town it would take an hour to get there. I don't even know why it's classified as 'in Beacon Hills'.

* * *

"_Now what about Vee?"_

_Stiles sighed lightly. When he pulled away from me he wore a pained expression, like he didn't want to tell me but he felt he had to. I knew it too well. It was the expression I wore almost full-time around Vee._

"_You were with her, Jackson and Lydia at the video store when the _mountain lion_ attacked right?" Stiles asked – he spat out 'mountain lion' like it was a poisonous word he didn't want to taste on his tongue. I nodded, hesitantly. Why was he asking? He knew I had been there, he saw me himself when his dad pulled up onto the crime scene. I had wanted to leap into his arms at the time, demented with the image of burgundy spewed over the man's neck_

"_Do you know what happened to them? Like, um, did you see...?" He trailed off, seeing how horrid the vivid pictures were in my eyes, painfully fresh. The tip of my bottom lip quivered. Stiles' warm hand splayed out on my shoulder. I hissed in a breath when he leaned in. I could still taste his lips on mine._

_We were giving the student body of Beacon Hills High School quite a show today._

_I was encased in his arms as soon as the first sob slipped out. Vee. The shadows playing out on the wall – his jagged, long teeth sinking into her side – were almost too harsh, too bare. I nuzzled the crook of his neck, fists balled in the back of his shirt so that it crinkled above his waistline. I felt the material move up his lower back. My ears turned pink, desire spiked through me._

_I inhaled his scent. It was so different from Derek's woodsy scent; fresh leaves clinging to his skin. Sandalwood, vanilla and black spices tickled my nose every time he was around. And it warmed my blood to a temperature that made my clothes stick to my skin uncomfortably. He had that effect on most people, making them squirm and writhe._

_But Stiles was a new level of blood-warming and scent-squirming. Just being close to him, touching him, my skin _and_ blood reached volcano-hot fever. Being close to Derek brought ephemera, but after yearning for Stiles for so long I felt like I deserved the euphoria that wafted from his skin._

_Stiles smelled like sunshine and sweat; he smelled real. Like someone who was reachable. Derek was in a space that didn't allow anyone to break down the walls around him. Stiles was so honest and open it was impossible to not like him. He made me feel like I was basking in his sunshine. When he unlooped his arms from me his shirt flashed above his hipbones. Hipbones I suddenly wanted to lick._

"_Tell me, Nora. Please." He begged with his eyes: syrup-heavy and bright like the sunbeams that radiated off of him. I nodded. His fingers crossed through mine until they pulled our palms together applying little pressure over my knuckles. Stiles dragged me to an empty classroom. We earned quite a few stares, but I kept my blushing head down until we were in the classroom._

_He leaned against the door and crossed his legs at the ankles, waiting expectantly. I suppose it was fair. Vee had used him for information so now he was doing the same. I didn't blame him, but it hurt. Was he too good for me?_

"_Lydia never came in." I said, and visible tension left the hard lines of his face and planes of his chest. His shoulders sagged as he saw my face fall. He sat in the desk beside me and squeezed my hand encouragingly._

"_Vee noticed the dead guy first. He wasn't moving and we could only see his feet. When we saw his throat slashed out Jackson stumbled backwards into the ladder that sparked out the lights." My voice didn't catch yet, but Stiles noticed how I almost winced when I said 'slashed'. It was a little more than the average slashing._

"_So as the lights flickered in and out it appeared. Like – like it was from shadows or something. Jackson grabbed Vee and they ducked behind a shelf. I wasn't that lucky." I said, raising my arm. "It scratched me and knocked me out of the way. Then it bumped the shelves down against each other like dominos until..."_

_I looked down from his warm, honest eyes._

"_Jackson shoved Vee forward. He was caught under the shelf but she wasn't. She tried to run to call nine-one-one. The thing – the mountain lion – stared at Jackson's neck like it was hungry. But it ended up chasing Vee to the back of the store where it... oh God." I sobbed violently. "It bit her."_

_Stiles winced. More emotion than I thought possible swarmed over his face. He tried to hide it but I had caught it already. Fear, anger, pain, frustration. He removed his hand from mine and dragged it over his hair like he was stilling waves. Stiles' temples went red as his nails drew crimson from his pale skin._

"_Stiles?"_

"_Nora, Vee's been... Bitten. She's Changed." He said, rising to scatter the chair behind him away. He rounded my desk and sprawled his fingers across it as he bore into my eyes. "She's a werewolf now."_

* * *

I uncrossed my stiff legs and rose from where I sat, I stretched and yawned. It was two o'clock in the morning. The curtains were drawn down blocking out most of the silvery moonlight. I shuffled the papers together in a hasty stack and stuffed them in the drawer. My adoption papers, my parent's marriage and divorce certificates and documents were in my folded arms. I intended to put them in my room so that when Derek came to visit my father's study he wouldn't see them. Some things just felt too private to share with the world, even if they weren't my own secrets.

After I had shut the door locked behind me, I padded down the hall and softly knocked the door of my own room closed with my hip. The drawer from my desk rolled to a halt smoothly. I placed the papers inside the black wood.

_I cringed._

"_Nora, listen please. She's a werewolf. That thing, not a mountain lion. It's an Alpha."_

"_As in Alpha wolf?"_

"_Werewolf."_

_There was that word again, the one that I refused let hit home. I kicked the chair behind me and made a beeline for the door. His arm circled my waist and he pressed me up against the door. I dry heaved._

"_I'm not running from you."_

"_What?"_

"_I'm not running from you!" I said, louder. "I'm running from _it. _All of it. This messed up situation. I don't want to be a part of it but people seem to think I am."_

"_You're her best friend, you're already a part of it." He reasoned, chest flush against my back._

"_Like you're Scott's?" I asked piously. I felt him nod against me, his hair bristling against the nape of my neck. His lips met the bump of my spine, exposed because of low-bent head. The curls that framed my face blocked everything out of view._

"_What do I do?"_

I had too long to wait for school and I knew I couldn't fall back asleep. I had woken up and going to my father's study was an escape from everything else. But now, in my own room again, I sat down unable to think of anything to kill time.

Showering would make too much noise, I couldn't call Vee or Patch or Allison and menial tasks like homework and chores wouldn't keep me distracted or entertained enough to constitute this situation.

I did have one person I could probably call. Derek. He had forced me to find out the truth – he had practically rammed lycanthrope down my throat. Now it was time for a little payback. Going from the history of my calls I called the unknown number that was still recorded as private.

I waited as it rang.

* * *

"_You have to help her in any way you can. Don't wait for the full moon. Does she know?"_

"_I-I don't think so. She couldn't, I didn't even know. Unless... maybe Scott told her. Or someone else, like Patch but I don't think she would believe—" I was going to say 'anyone but me'._

"_Wow wow, wait up. Patch knows? Patch knows about werewolves?" Disbelief cracked across his face like a split lightning pitchforking over plaster. It didn't suit his handsome, pale face._

"_I think so." I said slowly._

_Stiles turned his face away, looking thoughtful, and waited thirty seconds before he finally answered, "Son of a gun." He bit out, through clenched teeth. When his wide, Bambi eyes met mine again I felt goosebumps ripple through my arms like I had just heard a cheesy love line._

_His eyes, his smile, his smell had that effect on me._

"_How am I gonna break it to her? How do I even know she would believe me, I mean did Scott believe you when you told him he was a werewolf?" I blurted out._

"_That's a story for another time."_

"_No." I said firmly. "Tell me. What was his reaction when you said an Alpha biting him meant he had contracted lycanthrope?"_

_He rolled his eyes but sighing in defeat he told me. "He scratched my chair. Ripped three claw marks into the leather. That was before he tried to punch me." My eyes widened. "Only because I tried to make him cancel on a date he had with Allison." My brow went up. "It was the night of the full moon, coincidentally when Lydia threw a party for the lacrosse team."_

"_Of course." I said, thinking about Vee bludgeoning me with her wolf claws. I knew the full moon was next Monday – only because Derek had warned me to tell Vee. But how could I even imagine breaking it to Vee that along with claws, the ability to change eye colour and controlling dogs there was a whole other world of things we didn't understand and had to get from Derek Hale most likely. "Should I wear a Kevlar vest when telling her or hide behind you as a human shield?"_

"_Neither." He chuckled. "Just break it to her gently. Meanwhile, I'll tell you everything I know about werewolves."_

* * *

He didn't answer so I threw it across my bed for it to splash in the fluffy covers and create a barren around it. Groaning I threw the covers around me, fisting to mould a shape around me like a cocoon. I heard the phone bounce against the floor. It sounded like a D flat on the fifth string of a guitar.

Last night I hadn't been forced to go to parent-teacher conferences. I got pretty got feedback from most of my teachers. Even my biology teacher told me that all I had to do was concentrate a little more and he could see my grade rising if I focused heart and soul on the syllabus. What Ms. Morrell told my mom was a little unnerving though. All she had to say was that I should begin tutoring Vee again.

Mom had been there when Chris Argent shot the mountain lion.

She told me everything in precise detail. She told me how commotion seemed to erupt mysteriously, she couldn't see it yet because it was slinking low close to the car tyres. Apparently, quite a few people got flats – including Hank Millar, Marcie's dad.

Scott saved Allison from getting hit by a car but the Sheriff was hit instead.

I felt a pang of pain for Stiles.

But my mom had been the priority. She was pretty shaken up by seeing the animal dead, blood bubbling around the wound in a red circle over its dark fur. She told me how scared she had been of Chris holding a gun.

But I assured her he had a licence. I only assumed since Allison had told me he sold firearms to the law enforcement. But I was pretty sure if he didn't' have a licence he would have been arrested on the spot. Vee was lucky, or unlucky – depending how you saw it, enough to have missed the whole thing. Her mom had been so disappointed she drove straight home missing the while show.

I intended to do everything in my power to help Vee. So I called Derek again. He didn't answer that call or the next six. So I gently shut my door and left to my father's study.

The cold doorknob shot cold spikes into the nerve endings in my hand. I blinked several times before my brain registered what was drawn on the door. It swam around in my vision, as if I was hallucinating again. I knew I wasn't, though. I wiped the door with my sleeve which just flaked some of the paint off.

Between the three wooden panels of the door was a sloppily drawn spiral. A horizontal line spiralled out into thin, winding circles around it four times before the spiral ended. It wasn't red like the triskele I hallucinated the night at Lydia's party.

To distract myself, I cleaned out my closet and loaded laundry up the stairs. I was halfway through when I heard a rapping against the door. At first I thought it was from my dad's office, but if I strained my ears I could hear the echo from the kitchen. The rapping stopped, then continued again.

Dashing downstairs to make sure my mom wouldn't wake up because of it, I swung open the door. Elliot was standing on the other end with a surly smile. He was wearing jeans, a plaid shirt that looked vintage and sunglasses. I suddenly felt underdressed in my pink bathrobe. Elliot's eyes scraped over my body. I shivered, pinching the material closer to my body. His smile widened, and despite the dark sunglasses I could tell bemusement crossed through his eyes.

"Nora, Nora." The way he said my name was patronizing, like he was superior to me. "Tsk, tsk." He wiggled his finger from side-to-side like he was talking to a child. I grit my teeth. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? You shouldn't keep a guy hanging."

While in truth I had been avoiding Elliot since Lydia told Vee and I about Kjirsten, I wasn't about to up and tell him that now was I? "I've been busy."

"With what?"

"eZine-related things."

"I know for a fact that you and Vee haven't published anything on the eZine for about a week and a half now." He slipped off his sunglasses and took a step towards me. I smelt the bitter tang of alcohol on his breath. It was so strong I felt like gagging. It was definitely stronger than beer. Whiskey?

"How do you know that?"

"That's not important." He waved a hand around, holding the sunglasses, so close to my face I thought he would strike me. He didn't. Instead he clipped his sunglasses to the collar of his shirt.

If he was keeping tabs on the eZine what else was he doing while I avoided him? A thought popped into my head, sharp and so overwhelming I steadied myself by placing a hand to the beam beside me. Had Elliot carved that spiral into my dad's office door?

"What _is _important is you and I." Elliot moved swiftly, placing one hand on my hip and the other on my cheek. I stumbled backwards to avoid his sweaty hands. A burst of nervous adrenaline told me I _should_ be afraid. But I wasn't. It wasn't for lack of trying – he was downright slimy in my book right now. But I wasn't afraid because if he had damaged something of my dad's...

"Do you have a knife on you?" I dared. He didn't look surprised. Had someone else asked him the question before? Had Kjirsten? I took his silence as an answer. "Can you show it to me?"

"Nora – that's ridiculous." He burped. "You don't like me anymore do you? This always happens." He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. So much so that they were tinged and bloodshot. They had been bloodshot before, but now it was making my eyes water just looking at him.

"You mean with Kjirsten?"

"What do you know about her? The rumours?" He spat. "What those _other people _failed to mention was my undying love for that girl!" He spoke of others like bugs under his boot. "I... I really did love her."

I wasn't sorry for him. If he had anything to do with her murder – or suicide – I didn't feel anything for him. Awkward silence placed itself around us. My eyes lost their focus on him. They trailed his pocket where a bulge was visibly poking from the denim. I was sure it was some sort of metallic object.

His hand went over it, as if reading my thoughts. He snapped his head back with neck-cracking force and belched rugged laughs that were loud enough to scatter the crows that had perched themselves on the trees beside the farmhouse. They cawed as they batted their wings and left. When Elliot's laughter finally died away I felt the fear ebb away from me. I was only left with a fist-balling anger burning itself through my veins.

"I thought I could start over in Beacon Hills. But you know how it is with a best friend. They demand things from you – things you don't want to do. Things that can't be spoken of." His eyes glazed over with a sort of cloudfullness that made my fist uncurl. In his intoxicated state I was sure I could poke the truth out of him. I smiled. "What?"

"Was I the girl you intended on dating? You know, when you planned to start over?" Vee hadn't taught me anything per se about seducing, but I had seen enough movies and read enough books to know the basic concepts. It would help my conscious if there was more clothing over my naked body, but I couldn't ask for much in this situation. I played with a curl that had escaped my ponytail.

He didn't smile. His lip twisted and his eye twitched. "You're just like _them_." He screamed, then drilled his fist into the siding of the farmhouse so hard loose paint chipped down over his forearm. Was he on steroids? Veins rose to the surface of his translucent skin, trying to beat their way out.

Cradling his bleeding fist between his knees I saw a flash of plastic as the handle of whatever was in his pocket peeked out. Them. He had said I was just like them. Who?

The Argents? The werewolves? Did he have anything to do with them?

"Damn that hurt." He tried a crooked grin. "Wanna let me in and get the first aid kit out of the bathroom?" I knew that most first aid kits would be in bathrooms of most houses. But most houses didn't even have first aid kits – so the fact he knew I did and where it was made the hairs on my neck stand tall like soldiers.

"My mom's asleep; I don't want to wake her. Why don't you wait here and I'll call a cab."

I turned to leave. Truthfully I was just going to lock the door and leave him out there. If he wouldn't go I'd planned on calling the cops. I hadn't anticipated his boldness. I tried kicked the door behind me but he stuck his arm out to block it from closing. Even after it knocked against his bicep he left it standing straight like a plank. Pink blossomed over his skin. I had turned back around to look at him – half-turned. My body was at an easy angle he could grab.

And he did.

His arms circled my waist and he squeezed. His chest was to my back as he swung me out of the house. The door clattered against the inside of the house, keeping it open for the meantime. When I was turned around again – facing him – he planted me against the wall and enclosed his body over mine possessively.

"Get—off—of—me!" I screamed, twisting my body away from his.

"Or what, Nora? You gonna scream? You gonna fight?"

The smell of the alcohol buzzed around my face like a swarm of pestering bees. Fight. All I have to do is put up a struggle and surely someone would see or hear. The thought that our neighbours were miles away didn't occur to me in the spur-of-the-moment.

With a new sensation, a new plan of escape, I glared at him meeting his intense gaze evenly.

His arms were on each side of my head, palms touching the wall. A little pressure and he would slip off. His reflexes were dulled, slowed, because of the alcohol. He wouldn't be able to fight back. His waist was in-check with mine. Legs spread apart. I could go for the groin also.

His face was inches from mine – lips puckered for a kiss. Revulsion roiled in my stomach at the thought of kissing him. Palm to nose. Nails to eyes. Kicking his groin wouldn't be as effective without shoes.

I wasn't short by any chance. My long legs gave me height, at least. My elbow ducked up, fist balled and facing downwards, so the hard part – the bone – slammed against his wrist.

Grunting, he lost his footing. He had been leaning against the wall for support in his drunken state. His head rammed forward, wall swimming towards him. If I wouldn't have ducked he would have head-butted me. Instead, my other elbow caught his other arm. His head dove straight for mine

I ducked.

The blonde boy's head crashed against the wall with an ear-shattering sound. If he had fallen I would have been convinced he had broken his skull. Blood streamed over his fair eyebrow and into his left eye. A dark red spot, half the size of my fist, was already blooming there. Bruising for sure.

Stumbling back, he reached for whatever dangerous weapon was in his pocket. My foot lashed out. If I had hit just above or just below the kneecap I would have broken his leg. I didn't. Instead I caught him square in the shin. The blow didn't have the effect I wanted but he lost his balance nonetheless.

I gave me time to stand up.

My fist curled.

Thinking only of the spiral drawn on my father's door, I curved my fist and threw it heavenwards. My arm arched and landed squarely on his jaw. His skin reverberated around my fist like a wave crashing outwards. My knuckles hurt. I saw the metaphorical birds fly around his head.

I gasped when I saw his eyes roll backwards. He landed on his back with a dull thud. Keeping the front door open I screamed as I rushed to grab my phone. I waited until they picked up.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

* * *

"I want a restraining order." I said to Deputy Basso. I couldn't believe I had thought of Elliot as good-looking and charming. "He broke into my house and carved a spiral into my dad's office! Then he assaulted me."

"In the house?"

"No. Outside."

"Why would he go through that trouble?" Deputy Basso raised a sceptical eyebrow. He had surveyed the house for additional damage and signs of a struggle. Elliot hadn't broken in, despite all the locked doors and shut windows.

"Isn't that your job?" My mom piped up. Deputy Basso lowered his elegant eyebrow with a suggestive expression on his face, but said nothing. His partner, Paul Holstijic, nodded as he rounded the corner.

"Underage drinking. Assault. Vandalism. Anything else?" Deputy Basso left, Deputy Holstijic took his position and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I think that's all. He probably broke in, too. Maybe on another day though. Mom, did you notice the spiral before today?"

She shook her head. "We don't use that room often." She said unnecessarily. She didn't owe Deputy Holstijic an explanation. It made me mad that she thought she did. I squeezed her hand just a little harder.

Deputy Basso returned from wherever he had gone. I wouldn't surprise me if he had gone to the bathroom without permission – having gone through this house so many times he probably knows which room is which. The papers attached to the clipboard he was holding were smashed under the weight of his powerful limbs as he crossed his arms over his chest too. He also crossed his ankles as he leaned against the wall.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that? Kid was pretty beaten up, more so than yourself." There was a sharp undertone in his voice. One that said _I don't trust you_ but his uniform said _you have to_. It was a paradox. His whole demeanour was, he was achingly handsome with dark hair and eyes but he looked down on everyone like they weren't worth the time of day.

"My mom had me take self-defence classes insistently after my dad died. Her thinking was that the murderer could come after us, too." I didn't mean to sound bitter. Those classes probably saved my life today.

"Smart woman." Deputy Basso said, making my mom thank him bashfully. "C'mon Holstijic. This was clearly self-defence. The boy was drunk. Even though he's in the hospital—" His dark, condescending eyes met mine with a fierce fury I didn't understand, "I think Nora here deserves her restraining order."

And just like that it was done. Elliot was in the hospital and thankfully wouldn't bother me anymore because I had filed a restraining order my mom backed up. I planned on telling Vee this morning at school what had happened. I wondered how Jules would find Elliot in the hospital. Would their parents contact each other? Did I care? Was I feeling guilty?

* * *

Allison smiled as we passed each other in the hallway. Lydia made a brief attempt at a smile, but she didn't bother to let it take on her face fully. I didn't take it personally. Instead, I sought out Vee's bright blonde head admit the crowd of black and blue forming. The tardy bell rang.

Someone behind me smacked gum.

I made a frustrated sound that sounded a little more like constipation, shoving my way past. I got a few dirty looks and even a finger or two but I didn't care. Vee was my priority.

Someone behind me smacked gum.

Patch whispered coolly in my ear, "She's with Danny." just when my heart leaped out of my chest. I placed one hand over my breast and made an exaggerated scene of being scared. "You're jumpy today, Grey. Off your game?"

My disposition wasn't in a mood sweetened enough to handle Cipriano's ironic lady charm. Sensing this, he took my hand and lead me down the hall with a groan. "I hate it when you're moody, means something bad happened or is about to happen."

"I'm not psychic, so why would you say that?"

"Your hand. Wanna tell me what happened?" He paused in front of, what I assumed was, Danny's homeroom. Vee was there, legs crossed, chatting to Danny and his lacrosse buddies. She was the centre of attention, a swirl of bright gold and green with a dash of hot pink tights and a black jacket. The others had their lacrosse sticks hanging out of their backpacks wearing casual boy clothes. Patch was, as usual, clad in tight black.

"Boxing." I muttered automatically. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised: he didn't look threatening but his stance demanded your attention.

"I taught her everything she knows," Jackson said, slipping under Patch's arm and beside Danny. He grinned. Someone close to Danny with blue eyes and fair hair yelled out, "That explains why he's so good on the field!" and the crowd erupted into laughter like hyenas. Patch rolled his eyes and stiffened his spine. The blonde-haired and blue-eyed resembled Elliot so similarly, with his symmetrical face and sweeping fringe, that I felt my fist involuntarily curl. A flare of pain from my bruised knuckles accompanied the instinctive fist I had made, ready to fight again.

"But seriously, anything... bad?"

"No I'm fine." I lied. I shoved him, hard. He was a solid wall of immoveable muscle. He waited patiently, expectantly, analysing his nails and picking them. I growled. Both Jackson and Vee's heads snapped towards me instinctively. Danny and his friends remained oblivious. If I had had red eyes I'm sure they would both have gone into post traumatic stress. "Elliot Saunders came to my house this morning."

Patch's eyes widened in alarm. The dark crevices under his eyes seemed inexplicably small compared to his bottomless dark, fathomless eyes. "And?"

"What are you, waiting for the latest gossip? Move!"

Vee's face materialized behind his knotted shoulder. "Don't test her, Patch." She mused. "She actually did do boxing for a year or two before quitting."

"Why'd she quit?" He asked, eyes glittering. Bewilderment, perplexity and general amusement laced in his tone. He shifted his body to face her so he wasn't being rude but also to purposefully grind my gears.

"Said it got in the way of her studies."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" I huffed. Patch's body crumpled as he folded himself behind a desk, giving us each a curt wave and nod. "Vee – I need to talk to you."

"I figured, you got the _serious look _on your face that says 'don't mess with me' but also 'I'm free for coffee'. It's very sublime."

I playfully punched her shoulder. Rubbing it and chuckled, she followed me down the hall to our own homeroom. "It's about... actually, why don't you tell me why you've been hanging out with Patch and Danny in their homeroom. Is it cause of Jackson? I think that's Lydia's homeroom too."

"No, it's not because of that!" She protested loudly. "You've just been a little MIA lately. So what's up?"

"There's actually quite a lot to tell you, really. Stiles—"

"And you kissed. Yeah I know." A slow, agonizing smile graced her lips. "The whole school knows, it's made him a stud and you a slut."

"What?"

"Well, first it was Derek then Elliot then there was talk about Jackson and now—"

"There was no Jackson! He's taken, and I would never he's just a friend. As for Elliot—"

"You didn't deny Derek. Marcie's been calling you Nora the Whore-A again."

"I couldn't give a crap about Marcie Millar." I snapped. "I bet you love the fact she was beaten up. Any leads on it yet, you would know since you and I were actual suspects."

"What'd you mean _I _would know? They came to your house too, did they not?"

"Yes, but I'm not as... how can I put this lightly?" I said. "Intuitive as you?"

"Did you seriously put a question mark at the end of that sentence? Urgh, Nora. Like I would tamper with police evidence, I mean really. How long you think of me Nora Whore-A."

"Don't you dare!"

I had to admit that it felt good to be back to the same old banter with Vee, even if it was about new events like Marcie being in the hospital after a brutal assault. Out of context, if people heard us I was sure they'd get the wrong impression.

Vee finally said, after she was done laughing, "Did you hear who found her?" She didn't even wait for me to say anything. "Elliot. As in Saunders. I know, I was surprised too."

"Vee, Elliot came to my house this morning drunk. He aggravated me and I think he broke in too. There was a pattern drawn on the door of my dad's office. It was kinda like a spiral, but you could tell it was done with some sort of knife." I said. She waited in silence for me to continue. "So I filed a restraining order."

"Is that why...?" She trailed off, brushing a hand over my knuckles. "Did you go all ninja on him? I'm glad you did, but he was wasted right?"

"How does that justify—"

"I didn't say it does. But maybe it does. People do crazy things when they're drunk. I'm sure once he wakes up from his coma he'll go back to being Charming Elliot again and be all 'Ooh, ladies, you lookin' fine this evening. Listen, Nora sorry I broke-and-entered your house and drew a weird spiral on the door I didn't know was your dad's'—"

I cut her off before she could say anything else in that terrible impression of Elliot's voice. "I want to find out what really happened with Kjirsten. It seems like something doesn't add up. Maybe we could go to Kinghorn Prep."

"No way. I have plans with Jules." She said, taking a seat behind a desk beside the one I laid my backpack on. I couldn't exactly critique her for doing so because I didn't know Jules as well as she probably did. Besides, if he was anything like Elliot I was sure Vee could hold her own... especially now.

"Fine." We seemed to have steered away from what I was meant to be telling her, which just couldn't form on my lips. I couldn't imagine myself telling her she was now a _werewolf_. They were make-believe like superheroes. Scratch that, radioactive spiders and kryptonite would have been easier to believe than howling at the moon and silver bullet werewolf stories. But I couldn't dillydally anymore. Stiles had entrusted me. I wouldn't let him – or Ms. Morrell who had told me to 'tutor' Vee again – down.

I cut her off, again, midstream. Whatever she had been saying was white noise, background to what I was thinking about. I didn't want to sugar code it, Vee deserved better. But it came out... sugary. "You know how once a month a woman gets... testy because of her period." She made a face. "Well, remember that nasty Bite you got the other day at the store." Suddenly, she was sheet white. Vee's usual green eyes seemed to glaze over, remembering the pain, the screaming, and the blood from that one horrible Friday-the-13th-type night.

"Where are you going with this?" She hissed. "The wound has healed. I'm fine, Nora. I promise, you don't have to worry about me anymore."

"I know. But after Stiles and I... kissed... he told me something about Scott. And Derek. And the thing that bit you." I said.

"Nora, spit it out."

"The thing's called an Alpha. As in Alpha _werewolf_." I whispered that last part. I was too scared envisioning that if it was spoken loud enough one made of shadows would spring forth to the front of the class and Bite me as well.

Vee didn't say anything.

Her silence was deafening.

"Well, it bit Scott too. That night when I hit a deer, you gave me your insurance card and everything. Vee that wasn't a deer. It was... it. Him. The Alpha. I was too shaken up but looking back I think I saw Scott standing in the middle of the road. His shirt was lifted up and I saw smidgens of blood."

"And Derek?" She demanded. I couldn't blame her – but it wasn't my fault! She could try to be a little less... no. That wasn't fair on her. When I found out my father died I remembered how _dark_ and _damp_ I felt. She had that human right too. Even if she wasn't technically human anymore.

"Stiles said he was Born, not Bitten."

"That's why his parents all burned to death." Vee whispered with the same idiosyncrasy as me – thinking if it was spoken loud enough it would happen. "They – whoever did it – were trying to kill all of them. The werewolves. That's why Derek came back. To get the Alpha and stop it. That's why his sister came back too."

"Probably." I said lamely. "He's helping Scott control it. Maybe he can help you."

"Damn right he'll help me." Vee growled. I had never felt scared of my un-twin. Until then.

* * *

Vee spent the rest of the day talking to Scott or Stiles individually. Apparently, Stiles was mad at Scott for saving Allison and not saving his father from being hit by that car. I understood his perspective, but Scott couldn't do everything. Luckily now, there was Scott and Vee. They would be equals, if Derek trained them both to control their lycanthrope.

Scott and Stiles told her the same thing, along with a bunch of other things. This was just the one thing they both said. That the full moon was in less than a week. She didn't have much time.

Allison volunteered for me and her to go first in our French assignment. Ms. Morrell was pleased. She said we covered the basics and more. Really, we only talked about our day, our clothes, our hair, our hobbies etcetera. The bell sounded and we all left. But Ms. Morrell did ask me how Vee was doing. I told her she was getting extra help from Scott and Stiles. She seemed pleased about that.

* * *

"Hey hon." My mom greeted me when I burst in, kicking the door as it tried to swallow my key. "Could you do me a favour and go get the groceries?" Mom was balancing a plate of fruits and vegetables under one arm. The knife she held scattered light as she pressed down so the tomato split in two. It rocked on both sides on top of the white counter.

"Sure." I said. My car keys were already jingling in my hand. I texted Vee to meet me at the grocery store as I waited. Mom wiped her hands on her apron and fished out a folded wad of notes. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"For the whole week." She explained.

"Oh, okay. I'll be back in a few. Could Vee come over afterwards, she's meeting me there." I lifted my phone, showing her Vee's messages.

"I'll set an extra plate, then." She said, turning around to pull a plate from the cabinet behind her. Mom knew what had happened at the video store: she had been quiet every since. Quiet than usual, anyway, especially around Vee. Even thought she had no scar to show, my mom knew she had been Bitten. I couldn't help telling her everything after that night.

"Alright." I slammed the door behind me, more than a little aggravated with her. Starting up the car I put my phone on speaker and called Vee. She answered on the second ring.

"Hey babe, I'm outside my house on the porch. See ya in a few." She said, then she hung up. My seatbelt protested against my chest, repelling, as I slowed the car to a sudden hault. Red light. I pondered suddenly how much Vee knew about lycanthrope. Green light.

A car behind me honked.

When I didn't move the car swerved beside me, the road mostly empty. Marcie Millar's pale beautiful face bounced into view through our separating windows. Bruises that riddled her skin, like the brown spots on the inner skin of apples, were already beginning to fade. Or she was just wearing a lot of makeup. The latter was the most probable explanation.

"Hey Nora—"

Knowing she'd say 'the Whore-A' I cut her off.

"Hey Marcie. I heard what happened to you. Do the police have any leads?" I asked, having seemingly parked the car beside her's.

"I've got a good guess." Marcie ground out, through teeth clenched so tightly her jaw was bulging tightly. "The guy had black eyes, black hair and black clothes. Sound familiar? No? Alright, I'll tell you: Patch Cipriano." She spat out.

"You and I both know that's a lie."

"Oh really?"

I couldn't explain to her how I knew who had beaten her up. With the latest information my theory was that Marcie was beaten up by the Alpha in human form because she looked so much like Lydia. Maybe he or she didn't want Lydia talking about what she saw. In the fleeting moment they saw each other, I was pretty sure anyone could confuse the two.

Without another word, I sped away. Two minutes later, Vee was inside the car. Five minutes later, after we had excessively talked about what she knew now about werewolves, we had arrived at the store. I parked the car in the store's lot and left with Vee to do the shopping list Mom texted me.

Fifteen minutes later, Vee unlocked the trunk and loaded the bags into my car. So far, we knew that for werewolves to control themselves – for Scott anyway – they needed a metaphorical 'anchor'. Scott's was Allison.

When Vee told me she didn't know who would be hers, I gotta admit it stung. I knew Scott didn't have Stiles, his best friend, as an anchor but it seemed only logical – to me, anyway – that I would be Vee's. Wasn't it? Was I just being a paranoid freak?

But who else who be Vee's anchor? Jackson? No. Jules? No.

Vee's claw-tipped hand wrapped around my wrist. I hissed at the incision the curvature of her claws made on my already-scared wrist. Looking apologetic, she swiftly moved away from me. When I looked back down at her hands resting at her sides they were normal. She looked pale, purple bruiselike clefts were carved under her green eyes. "I... I think I heard something." I frowned. Her eyes flickered to me, flashing a golden pale yellow. "No, Nora." They sputtered back to green, like a candle dying out. She still couldn't control her transformation – which was understandable. "I think I _heard _something."

The parking lot was relatively empty, a few stray cars here and there. Mine was parked in the cluster that had formed in the centre of the lot, just beside the sign that said 'Level 4'.

"Like someone locking and unlocking a car. You know that sound, that beep beep?" Her head was whipping back and forth trying to locate the noise.

A shadow slipped out from behind a silver Toyota. He darted past us, whipping wind turning at his heels, and for a fleeting moment his eyes met Vee's. Scott's runny chocolate brown eyes, wide and alarmed. I gripped Vee's hand, slammed the trunk of my car, and ran after him.

Scott was easy to follow. He was fast granted, but his bright blue jeans made his leg movements effortless to trace. He looked back at us and slowed his pace until our shoes were right next to his. Without a moment's hesitation, he took my hand and dashed away again. If it weren't for the sound of our feet solidly slapping the concrete floor, I think we would have made it. I hoped we would have.

Vee was just as fast as Scott – which made me the weakest link. Although I was linking Scott and Vee in the odd chain we formed they both pushed on ahead of me with speed I simply couldn't match. My long legs – despite their length – couldn't mimic just how agile their legs glided along.

The impending doom came. Scott's knitted fingers over mine loosened just a fraction, but it was enough to inference what he wanted from that. My trembling fingers flurried out from Vee's. I moved my head just so, allowing me to glance at Vee's hurt expression. Instantly, remorse thrummed through my heart.

We could have died. And I let go of my best friend to run faster.

Scott had already taken the lead, no problem. He was readying himself for the bend. Vee was flanking my right, breathing hard and swishing her straight arms up to her neck then down to her waist like a professional runner.

Thick fire was building in my lungs. I needed my iron pills. The muscles in my legs twitched and fluttered, threatening to allow me to collapse. Scott used to be asthmatic. Before the Bite.

Scott swooped around the bend, briefly locking his eyes on mine to check if we were still behind him as if the noise wasn't enough. Vee whimpered. I tried hard not to, hearing the same growl as she did. You didn't need superhuman hearing when it was that close; when it was that loud and threatening.

For a second, I thought Vee's ankle was about to twist. Her foot was only bouncing against the concrete so she could spring ahead further. She was at Scott's broad back in seconds. I still had the bend to look forward to.

A sigh. A dash of blonde hair. And Vee's hand was gripping my upper arm, pulling me away with her. The shoulder teetered on the line between dislocation and location. That's how powerful her yank was.

"C'mon!" She screamed. The pain that licked up my arm was now blistering my legs. Dampness which I originally thought was blood began sticking my shirt to my back. Sweat. I was sweating, giving off a fairly detectable scent it could track with ease.

I pondered balling the shirt up around my neck and swinging it away. Maybe that would distract it. Maybe it would chase the shirt. Was it that animalistic?

_Obviously not. It purposefully slashed you to get you out the way – not hard enough to need stitches or scar but hard enough to incapacitate you. Then it pinned Jackson down with the DVD shelves and bit Vee._

Scott kept throwing his head back, waves of hair flung in every which way. His eyes seemed to skitter through us, behind us. I didn't want to look. I didn't dare. But Vee did.

When she did, her feet hit the floor just a little bit harder; her grip just a little bit tighter. Slanted flooring made it easier to fluidly keep our pace. The 3 on the wall was a satisfying relief. The consistent click of claw against rock was a nerving presence of fiery breath at my neck.

Scott flew past it, licking his lips. Vee shoved me ahead of her to meet Scott halfway between him and Vee. Was she protecting me?

Gray walls and multicoloured cars whizzed past me. Scott's flailing limbs were an ever-present entity ahead of me that gave me calm. I wasn't in on this alone, at least. It could be worse.

His steps wavered, skittering along but sliding further into the parking lot. Scott's head ducked behind a car as he got lower—lower—lower—until he was out of sight. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, like a cheesy scene in a film.

Vee's hands hit my back squarely, but roughly. The blow sent me forward with a burst of resounding energy. The car Scott was behind gleamed at the corner of my eye. I ducked. Scott's arms were around my waist, like a band of strong steel. His hand wrapped around my mouth and he pulled me backwards – into his lap. I squirmed uncomfortably but he didn't leave room around my mouth for protest. Simply scooting over with his volcano-hot hands still on me, he gave room for Vee to slide beside us.

I batted away Scott's sweaty hands and gripped Vee's ankles to reel her in. We stayed like that for a while. Scott. Me. Vee. Side-by-side.

Confusion washed over Scott's angled face. His hands folded over his heart as he remembered something. His heartbeat. My mouth made a silent O. It looked like he was trying to manhandle his heart to beat slower.

Vee peeked around the edge of the car. A shadow slipped between the maze of cars. Containing her squeal, she planted her back to the car and gripped my hand. I looked over at Scott, who interlaced his fingers in mine. We shared looks of anguish, forcing thin-lipped smiles to say _goodbye_.

Scott screwed his eyes shut. His handsome face wrinkled in on itself, scrunching up adorably. Gulping loudly, his Adam's apple bobbed. He shared a look with us, individually, before his hand was ripped from mine and he took off again.

Only this time he didn't run too far.

Duckwalking to the yellow beam ahead, he circled it and jumped up on the hood of a car. The sound that burst from it was deafening. Vee's face lit up with joy, like a kid on Christmas morning. Her clammy hand, never having left mine, yanked me up. I didn't reach full height. I copied her low crouch and walked as fast as I could across the parking lot, in time with Scott bouncing on each individual car.

The resonating bursts of light and sound were gratifying. Vee winced when we came close to the second car Scott leaped onto. Her hands went over her ears as she continued to walk ahead of me. I stayed a second longer to watch Scott dart to the next car.

His grace was silent but humanly. His silhouette was on all fours, but he didn't look as animalistic as he should have. Maybe it was the hoodie.

I followed Vee, scuttling ahead. Quick flashes of his boots played at the corner of my eye. Vee pressed her back against the wall opposite the last car Scott was supposed to bounce on. I expected him to roll when he landed, instead he flailed. His shoulder brushed mine, speeding ahead. He tugged me forward with his strong grip. Vee's hand lashed out towards mine solidifying the chain between the three of us again.

Scott led us to the end of the parking lot. In a dizzying flash of padding feet we were huddled in a tight-knit bundle of limbs behind this one black car. It was the next-to-last one in the row. Vee's hand went over her mouth silently, disentangling our intertwined fingers to do so. Scott's thick fingers around mine were assuring. His chest was heaving hard. Sneaking a glance behind him, Vee slouched down lower.

Scott thunked his head against the car's hood. A shrilly ringtone sang inside Scott's pocket. "No!" He whispered quietly, under his breath. Vee hissed something incoherent that sounded like a lot of cuss words strung together at once.

He ripped his hand away from mine.

A feeling of danger flooded me to my very core.

Even Vee's hand over mine didn't help soothe the icy sensation.

Grunting, Scott patted himself down futilely. He couldn't seem to find his phone. When I shook my hand down his pants pocket, he was slung upwards and thrust away from me. His features were permanently screwed together, cringing.

Knowing I couldn't be much use, I stood up. Vee's mouth opened, but no sound came up. We watched as a dark silhouette smashed Scott down against the hood of the car with one hand snaked around his throat. Scott's hands were clutching the hold the man had against his throat, his legs flailed as he sliced through the air. He groaned, still breathing hard, as he finally opened his eyes to see Derek in a defensive crouch over him, possessively.

"You're dead." Was all he said.

Vee's lupine claws retreated, sheathing with reluctance. She stared at her fingers, tentatively flexing them until satisfying cracks were heard. She was ready. Ready to fight for her life, the claws were evidence enough even if she didn't bare her fangs or flashed her eyes. It was proof enough for me.

Derek hoped off the car with silent grace, landing on his feet with bent knees. He gave two nods in mine and Vee's direction as way of recognition. As he passed us, leather-clad shoulder brushing mine, he pointed at Vee's fingers, smiled and said, "Nice."

Disappointed, Derek continued his long stride. What did he want her to do? Blush and giggle? Scott jostled off the car and ran towards Derek with an exasperated look on his face. He flexed his fingers, curling into fists, as he approached, ready to punch Derek. I grabbed his bicep and squeezed. "Don't." I said.

"Yeah, just leave him. He's freaking crazy." Vee chimed in, coming up to stand beside me. Scott wasn't so easily swayed. Not unkindly, he shrugged my hand off his arm and ate up the distance between him and Derek. "Should we follow them?"

Wordlessly, I took Vee's hand and ran after them.

"What—what the hell was that?" Scott demanded, something resembling fury—yet not that intense—was rolling off of him in waves. Vee wrinkled her nose. Did emotions have scents? Was she smelling how badly Scott was angry? I'd have to look that up, or ask Stiles some time soon.

In a casual demeanour, Derek replied, "I said I was gonna teach you I didn't say when." not even bothering to turn around and face him. Vee's body stiffened, her breath stilling.

"You scared the crap out of me!" Scott shouted slowly, hands gesturing wildly to his frantically beating heart.

Derek, only noticing our presence now, cocked his head to the side to watch us walk. The movement made him look like a big dark-haired bird. He drank us in from Vee to me, and then Scott. "Not yet." He said dryly.

Scott looked around in confusion. "Okay but I was fast, right?" He asked with his brows drawn together.

"Not fast enough." Derek said flatly.

"B-but the car alarm thing, that was smart, right?"

"Until your phone rang." Derek said quickly, with an icy undertone.

"Yeah but that was—I mean," Scott stuttered anxiously, searching for the right words. "Would you just stop?" He snapped. Derek slowed his past until eventually, with agonizingly slow movements, he whirled around. "Please?" Scott's voice was still an octave or three higher than what Derek's had been.

"What happened, the other night, Stiles dad getting hurt?" The night Mr. Argent shot the mountain lion in the parking lot at the school after parent-teacher conferences. "That was my fault! I should have been there to do something. I need you to teach me how to control this."

"Look," Derek growled in a rougher voice than usual. "I am what I am because of birth." He cocked an eyebrow. "You were Bitten. Teaching someone who was Bitten takes time." He looked at Vee. She met his gaze with steely determination, and didn't squirm away when Derek's cold green eyes raked her up and down as if assessing her.

Scott's face fell. The lines on his forehead cleared. He had never looked so young, so innocently defenceless.

In a softer, sadder voice, Derek added, "I don't even know if I can teach you." Vee made a suggestive noise.

"What do I have to do?" Scott asked, for the both of them.

"You have to get rid of distractions." Derek said, like the words had been on his tongue the whole night. His hand lashed out to snatch away the phone Scott was holding. "You see this?" He held up the phone to Scott's chest for everyone to see. "This is why I caught you." The screen read: 1 MISSED CALL FROM ALLISON. "You want me to teach you get rid of her."

Scott was glaring daggers at Derek. Vee's body went visibly lax.

"What just because of her family?" Scott snarled. Family? Clearly, I was missing something.

Derek lifted up the phone to Scott's eyes one last time, eyebrows raised and lines scratched over his forehead, before spinning around. His arm went over his head too fast. I didn't even see the black brick fly across the room. Scott protested meekly. I only heard it shatter into tiny fragments. Vee winced at the pitch.

"Getting angry? That's your first lesson. You wanna learn how to control this? How to Shift? That's your first lesson: anger." His pretty green eyes fleeted to Vee once more. "By tapping into a primal animal rage and you can't do that with her around!"

Jaw clenched, Scott said, "I can get angry." In a flat voice.

"Not angry enough! This is the only way that I can teach you! Now, can you stay away from her? At least until after the full moon?"

Scott wanted to shake his head. He stopped himself. "If that's what it takes."

"Do you want to live?" Derek roared. "Do you want to protect your friends—" His eyes met mine. "Yes or no? His voice dropped.

"Yes!" Came Scott's reply. "If you can teach me, then I can stay away from her."

Only after Scott had left the parking lot did Vee speak up. "What about me? You're not only gonna teach him, it bit me too. Who do I have to stay away from?"

"Not Nora, if that's what you mean." Derek rumbled. "Jules and Elliot, those are a few people to stay away from for starters." The icy undertone was back.

"Why?"

"Isn't 'because I said so' a good enough answer for you?" Derek challenged, pale blue eyes flashing to send a coolness crawling up my spine and ending at the nape of my neck.

"Not if you know me well." Vee said back, a smile dancing on her lips.

"Luckily for me, I don't." Derek said back.

"So why should she stay away from them?" I asked, cutting off the banter before it got out of control. Vee arched her brows expectantly.

"They're hunters."

"Is that why they wanna go camping next weekend? To hunt?" Vee asked.

"No, you're not hearing me right. They're hunters. As in, they hunt people like you and I. Werewolves." Derek said, slowly. Seeing her stones expression he repeated himself, "They hunt—"

"Werewolves, yeah I got it." Vee snapped. "What about what Scott said, about Allison's family. They're hunters too, right?"

"Their family business. Her dad's one of 'em, so is her mom and aunt." Images of them flashed through my mind's eye. Allison's dad's brilliant white-toothed smile and deep voice. Her mom's shock of red hair. Her aunt's dirty blonde waves and gentle curves. They all looked so normal. Forget Argent, their surname should have been 'deceiving looks' in French.

Then again, werewolves looked like normal humans until you pissed one off, too.

"But Jules and Elliot have nothing to do with the Argents." Derek explained. "They're posing as high school kids, but they're not. They're part of a hunter faction called The Silver Hand. Originally The Black Hand."

"The Serbian terrorist group that killed the Archduke Franz Ferdinand?" I asked. Derek nodded.

"He was a, um, werewolf. His wife, although human, was pregnant with his cubs." _Cubs. _That word rang out from the rest of his sentence. Vee locked eyes with me and gave a distasteful look. I wondered if werewolves knotted like regular wolves too.

"So what are they doing in Beacon Hills?" I asked.

"An Alpha on the loose and now three of its Betas. Perfect hunt. Besides, with the Argents failing to do their job properly The Silver Hand sent those two to finish what they started." He said, the tone practically sharply chilling.

"You mean the fire?" Vee's voice was gentle, caring. She surprised me with how much she knew, and the knowledge I lacked made me grind my teeth together. I finally had all the puzzle pieces, but the images on them were still blurry.

"Yeah." He said. "Yeah."

Vee stepped closer towards where he sat on the hood of his Camaro. She laid her hand over his, the one resting on his knee. The other was trembling with anger, balled into a fist I was sure his nails would slice open.

Following her lead, and genuinely worrying about him, I stepped towards him too. I lifted his fist up to my chest and unfurled his fingers until his open palm stared back at me. His head cocked to the left, to where I stood. With an expression of raw surprise, and mild bemusement, he stared with his lips parted. Vee was in the background, somewhere, making soothing noises neither of us listened too. I held his gaze until my palm met his.

Uncertain, I pressed my fingers against his too. They were remarkably larger than mine, but I didn't care. I filled the gaps between his fingers with mine. And although he didn't move for about a minute or so, he eventually let his fingers fall to my knuckles and squeezed back.

His eyes, beautifully bright and green like a meadow catching sunlight, sparkled.

Vee cleared her throat and we broke apart.

"So why haven't you done anything about them? If they're out to hunt us: me, you and Scott. Why haven't you stopped them yet?" She demanded.

Derek sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. I wanted to reach out and massage his fuzzy temples. "Because, Vee, I can't kill two teenage boys. Not with the Argents here." My eyes widened. "I wouldn't, anyway. They don't know what they got themselves into." His voice was so soft I had to lean against his car. Body betraying me, I curled my hand over his knee. It was an improvement from curling myself over his hunky thigh, which had been my first instinct.

Just when I thought he was leaning into the touch, bucking up his knees and scooting closer to me, Vee's voice sliced through the walls I had been trying to build around us.

"What about the Argents?"

"They don't know about them. They wouldn't believe me if I told them, anyway. We're fine with them here. They have a Code, and as long as we abide to it they don't hunt us."

"What's their Code?" I asked.

He looked at me as he said, "We hunt those who hunt us."


	7. Chapter 7 PT1

CHAPTER 7: NIGHT SCHOOL PART 1

_We hunt those who hunt us._

In a word, it seemed: Fair. But who was hunting the Argents? The Alpha? It had killed the bus driver, the video store clerk and that was about it. What did those two have in common to have a werewolf after them?

I was fresh out of ideas. I decided when I reached school, the one person I would seek out was Stiles. Surely, he was going to have at least some small clue. He was the son of the sheriff! He had to have some Intel. I didn't feel guilty now that he and I were on the same page. We shared information now, and Vee didn't have to seduce it out of him.

Where did that leave Stiles and I?

I had no idea.

Derek, last night, on top of his Camaro came to mind.

Bottom line was, I was still into him. We had shared one kiss, but other than that he seemed to be avoiding me at all costs. Even Patch had noticed.

With no other options left in the early morning (except Derek – who I was still awkward around, despite our odd unintentional closeness, which may have even been one-sided) I called Vee. As usual, it took me two tries to get her butt out of bed this early.

"Nora? Babe?" She asked, in a rough nasal voice. "Why are you calling at this ungodly hour?"

"I wanted to talk."

"Couldn't it have waited until school?" Rustling on the other end.

"No." I straighten up to a more comfortable sitting position. "I couldn't sleep."

"Well, you just pulled me out of a very good dream, for your information."

"What was it about?"

"I'd rather not say." I opened my mouth, but she cut me off. "So what's up?"

"I was just thinking about how we're going to deal with Elliot at school today. Now that we know about him." I sighed.

"Oh, you mean now that we know Jules had Elliot kill his werewolf girlfriend Kjirsten, as an initiation into the hunter faction The Silver Hand led by a guy who was descended from the Serbian group that killed that Archduke and his wife – while she was pregnant with cubs?"

"Yeah."

"I would say call the police but he was already questioned once, and they let him go!"

"Do you think Jules had anything to do with that?"

Vee made a guttural sound. "Obviously."

"Because they're hunting partners"?

"No, because they're best friends." Vee said. "I would break into the apartment of the girl you killed and plant a fake suicide note there to get you out of trouble. The way he killed her is still giving me daymares." I shivered.

"Nightmares but during the day?"

"Mmhmm. I mean, hanged? What kind of werewolf is killed by having a noose wrapped around her neck and strung to the limb of a tree?"

"He used wolfsbane-soaked ropes, Vee." I reminded her. "That stuff is like toxic to werewolves. Imagine having acidic ropes around your neck until it broke."

"We have to do something. He can't get away with this."

"What are we going to do, Vee? Nobody else knows except the Argents. Derek said they wouldn't believe him."

Vee hummed thoughtfully. "Let's just give him the cold shoulder until he gets the message. Maybe then we could talk to Patch." I grimaced. I hadn't talked to Patch since I found out about werewolves. I hadn't talked to Ms. Morrell either – I was still hoping they'd both leave me alone. Derek had gained a right in coming in to see my dad's office. I made a deal, and I intended on keeping up my end of it.

"I'll see you in a few." She said, then hung up. I walked into the bathroom to take a shower, glancing over my shoulder casually. The spiral on my dad's office door was still making me uncomfortable – I could see it glowing red through the duck tape my mom had placed over it.

I had asked Derek about it, yesterday. He said it was their symbol for revenge. For a vendetta. Then why would Elliot draw the werewolf symbol for revenge? I didn't want to think about it. So I got dressed and waited to see the Neon bounce down the driveway of my eighteenth century farmhouse.

* * *

Jackson held the door open for Vee. I slipped through, under his arm, and caught a glimpse of Scott's wavy-haired head bobbing away from us. "Scott? Scott—wait!"

"Why is she hanging out with that loser?" I heard Jackson ask Vee as I ran towards him.

"Hey Scott!" Lydia said perkily looking as glossy as a page from a magazine, hand nonchalantly placed through the strap of her handbag. Scott whirled around. In a loud voice he yelled, "Oh, come on!"

"What's wrong?" I asked as we walked – he walked, I ran to catch up with him – to class. A class I shared with Scott and Stiles, but not Allison, Vee, Jackson, Lydia or, thankfully, Elliot.

"Derek told me to stay away from Allison, yesterday. Remember?" He sounded exasperated.

"Yeah, he also told me and Vee the rest of the story."

"What story?"

"Allison's family, and the other hunters."

"Other hunters?" He asked, walking into class. Stiles, sitting in the middle of the room flanked by other students, narrowed his eyes angrily at the two of us. Scott tried to do that masculine head bob thing but Stiles continued to stare. Regretfully, Scott turned to look at me, still waiting for the answer to his question.

"Jules and Elliot. Apparently, they're hunters too. From this group called The Silver Hand."

He looked startled, I saw his Adam's apple bob several times as he blinked at me. I just nodded at his unspoken question. Taking the seat besides Stiles forced Scott to take the one behind him. "And they don't have a Code like the Argents do, they were sent here by their leader because of the Alpha." Stiles cocked an eyebrow at me.

_What?_ He mouthed.

"Do you need help dealing with them?" Scott asked, bending over to lean closer towards me. I shook my head no.

"Scott, why don't you tell Stiles about Elliot and Jules?"

"He's not talking to me." Scott answered quickly, looking down at his shoes. Perplexed, I looked at Stiles expectantly.

"Because of what happened with your dad?" I asked. A muscle in his cheek jumped. "That wasn't his fault." He continued to ignore me, looking straight ahead.

"Can you at least tell me if your dad's okay? I mean it's just a bruise right? Some soft tissue damage?" Stiles pressed his tongue against the inside of his lips. "Nothing... that big." Scott sighed, head bent.

Stiles' dad had been hit by a car. Scott saved Allison from getting hit by one, not knowing the Sheriff was down.

"You know I feel really bad about it, right?" Scott asked.

Stiles ignored him.

He sighed again, "Okay. What if I told you I'm trying to figure this whole thing out and that I went to Derek for help?"

Stiles gave an instantaneous reaction. He looked to the side – away from me – rolled his eyes and licked his lips before saying, "If I was talking to you," He splat his pencil down on his notebook, "I'd say you were an idiot for trusting him." He said. Then, as an afterthought added, "But obviously I'm not talking to you."

"I thought you had the hots for Derek." I blurted out. Biting my tongue from adding _like me_ I waited for his reaction. He ignored me. "You're talking to me, right? I wasn't even there the day of parent-teacher conferences." Scott looked at me like I was crazy.

"I do not have the hots for Derek Hale." Stiles hissed sideways at me. The bell chirped. Scott reached into his bag for his notebook. I stared at the blue lines dividing the page on mine. _One. Two. Three._

Stiles sighed. "What'd he say?" Scott grinned.

* * *

Stiles held the door open for me. He was wearing a multicoloured plaid shirt, unbuttoned, over a blue tee with some dark slacks. "He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?" Stiles asked, disbelief etched over his face like a sculptor had arranged his delicate features.

"Yeah." Scott replied anxiously.

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong but every time you do that you try to kill someone. And that someone's usually me."

"I know!" Scott whined. He looked over at me. I tried to give a reassuring smile, pressing my books over my chest. "That's what he means when he says he doesn't know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it." He stated.

"Well how's he gonna teach you to do that?"

"I don't know. I don't think he does either." Scott shrugged.

Instead of rolling his eyes, Stiles rolled his head on his neck awkwardly. "Okay. When are you seeing him again?"

"Just tell me not to talk about it. Just act normal and get through the day—" Stiles patted his arm, and they both stopped.

"When?"

"He's picking me up at the animal clinic after work."

"After work, alright well that gives me until the end of the school day, then."

"To do what?" I asked.

"To teach him, myself." Stiles said, and left.

* * *

Vee wasn't in the cafeteria. Stiles had left, presumably to go sort out whatever he was going to do to help Scott. And Scott was trying to avoid Allison somewhere outside the school. Which left me eating with Lydia and Allison.

Elegantly swinging around a silver fork, Lydia said, "The what of who?"

"The beast of Gevaudan. Listen," Allison said, as Lydia chewed thoughtfully. "A quadruped wolflike monster, prowling the Auvergne and south Dordogne areas of France during the year seventeen-sixty-four to seventeen-sixty-seven. La bête killed over a hundred people, becoming so infamous that the king, Louie the fifteenth, sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it."

Waving her fork with her eyes closed, Lydia said, "Boring."

"Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan." Allison said, with genuine concern crossing her face.

"Mmm. Still boring." She said, biting a piece of meat off her fork.

"Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid."

"Slipping into a coma bored." Lydia said, bobbing her head.

"While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shapeshift into a man-eating monster." Allison whispered slowly, dramatically.

"Any of this have anything to do with your family?" Lydia asked shaking her curl-covered head. She had done a braid over the right side of her head, which actually looked pretty. Of course, I wasn't about to tell her that.

"This: it is believed that la bête was finally trapped and killed by a renown hunter who claimed his wife and four children were the first to fall prey to the creature." Looking up with pride, Allison added, "His name was Argent."

Not amused, Lydia said, "Your ancestors killed a big wolf. So what?"

"Not just a big wolf." Allison flipped through the pages of the dusty book she was holding. Lydia gave me a look that said _think she's crazy_. "Take a look at this picture." Allison lifted the book high enough for us both to see, and rested her chin on top of where he hand was holding the spine. "What does it look like to you?"

I felt paralyzed by fear. Allison knew her ancestors were hunters. Did she know her current family (mom, dad, aunt) were too?

Lydia was enthralled. She slinked closer to stare at the painting of the red-eyed wolf, standing up. An Alpha. It was an Alpha. That's what red eyes meant.

The wolf itself was shrouded by thin mist, veiling the lower half of its body. Shattered bones littered the floor it stone on. "Lydia?" Allison said gently. "Lydia?"

Broken from the trance, she looked up. "It looks... like a big," She took a short, sharp breath. "Wolf." Grinning and blinking twice flirtatiously she added with a cock of her head, "See you in history." We watched her meander away.

"What do you think it looks like?" Allison asked me.

Panicking, I looked down at the image. A cold sweat made my shirt cling to back. Meeting her eyes, I shrugged. "A bear? What does it look like to you?"

"Honestly, like a..." _Werewolf_. I could feel the word stinging her mind, waiting to leak to her lips. "Wolf."

"That's probably it." I shrugged it off with nervous laughter. Allison went back to reading. Behind us, her eyes followed two boys who were leaving the cafeteria. I didn't have to look to know who it was. She shouted, "Scott? Scott, wait!" She folded her books into her arms and flashed an apologetic smile, taking off after him.

Lazily, I dragged my tray to the rubbish bin and dumped the contents of it. A shadow fell over me. Vee. "Hey, what's up with the Dynamic Duo?"

"Scott's avoiding Allison, Stiles' still mad at Scott. Same old, same old."

"Well I just ran into Elliot." My heart skipped a beat. "I told him you were busy at the library, so probably best to avoid it now that he'll be lurking there."

"Why was he asking about me? You're the werewolf."

She refrained from wincing. "Yeah, but it's you he likes."

"Wonder why." Vee rolled her eyes. "Hey listen," I told her. "I'm skipping next period to help out Stiles and Scott—"

"And you want me to cover for you in class." She gave me a thumbs-up. "Sure."

"Thanks, I owe you one." I said, and went down the hallway Allison chased Scott. He emerged from the bathroom, blowing out a sigh that made his cheeks puffy. "You okay?"

"It's hard. Staying away. I don't want to but if Derek thinks it'll help—"

"Derek wasn't Bitten, how would he know?"

"He's the only werewolf that can help me and Vee." Scott reasoned. Stiles clapped a hand over his shoulder.

"Follow me."

The three of us went to the lacrosse field. Stiles was carrying a stick and a duffle bag with him. "Okay, now." He sat down on the bench and rummaged through the bag pulling out something to hand to Scott. I sat down besides Stiles. "Put this on."

"Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?"

"Yeah I borrowed it."

Scott and I gave him twin looks.

"Stole it?"

"Temporarily misappropriated. Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs. You're gonna wear it for the rest of the day."

"Isn't that Coach's phone?" Scott asked.

"That I stole." Stiles answered shamelessly.

"Why?" Scott asked.

"Alright, well your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right?" Scott nodded. "When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison. When you get angry." Stiles listed. "Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate."

Scott's face beamed. "Like the Incredible Hulk."

"Kinda like the Incredible Hulk, yeah." Stiles agreed. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah I'm kinda like the Incredible Hulk—"

"Just shut up and put the strap on." Stiles barked.

I looked away while Scott lifted his shirt to tie the strap over his torso. I caught a flash of tan skin, making me blush. I had never really seen a half-nude guy before – and I wasn't about to start with Scott McCall.

Stiles wrapped duck tape over Scott's wrist to bind them together when they stood in the centre of the field. "What if someone sees?" I asked.

"They'll think we're practicing. It's our free period. Well, his free period. I'm cutting, and so are you. So keep a look out. Distract anyone who starts to stare and think we're... weird."

"That ship's sailed a long time ago." I snorted, and turned to leave. Stiles caught my wrist.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I watched his lips form the words, the graceful swoop of his bow and arrow shaped mouth. His breath ghosted over my cheek. I laughed and pushed against his chest.

I walked slowly to the bench, almost seventy-five percent sure Stiles was checking me out. As I sat down with my legs crossed, I took a moment to admire the view. Stiles rolled a ball into the net of his stick. Swinging it over his shoulder he dashed it through the air at Scott: it landed squarely on his chest with a dull thud.

Chanel perfume encompassed around me. With a sigh, Marcie Millar plopped down beside me fanning herself. "Damn, it's a hot day." She drawled, pinching her cropped V-neck and fluttering it against her skin. "Don't you think so?"

A hand cupped over my forehead to block the sun, I turned my head from her to see Stiles swing a second ball. That one struck Scott's neck. "Why the sudden interest, Marcie?"

Scott bounced on the balls of his feet after he and Stiles shared some words I couldn't make out. A ball narrowly missed his left ear. "In heat?" She asked, velvety voice making my skin crawl. The next ball hit him in the shoulder. Wincing and doubling over, I felt sorry for him. Was I going to have to put Vee through that for her to control _her_ anger? I hoped not.

"In my opinion on... anything." I finally turned my face to look at her. The sounds of hard plastic smacking skin made me jump every time.

Ignoring the question, Marcie nibbled on her lip in a seductive but slutty manner. "Think either of them would go for me?"

"No!" I snapped.

"Why? Are they together?"

"No." I said calmly, resonantly. "Scott's with Allison. Stiles is..."

"Single? Great." She was making fun of me.

Changing my approach, I said, "I thought you went for jocks."

"I like to mix it up now and again." Her reply was clipped, cool but vicious. She was holding nothing back. "Apparently, so do you Nora." _The Whore-a_ was on the tip of her tongue, I could see it.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Patch Cipriano?" There was an air of disgust to her words, like Patch was a leper.

"Homophobic? Or just bitter that he wouldn't let you ride him to compare notes with the other sluts at Beacon?"

She gasped, splaying a hand over her heart. "Nora!" She threw back her head and laughed a string of silky genuine laughs. "Meow, didn't know you had that in you. That's not what I meant. He's the infamous gay bad boy, and Derek Hale. You got him wrapped around your finger too?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would actually." Marcie simpered.

"Skank." I said.

"Geek." She turned away from me, disinterested.

"Slut."

"Freak."

"Bitch."

"Snob." Marcie turned back, glaring.

"Whore!"

A noise had us both jumping. Jackson chuckled. Marcie flashed her trademark toxic smile at him. He took the seat beside me. Rolling her eyes, Marcie said, "Fine! I'll give you two the loveseat. Bye." She blew us a kiss I was sure had enough poison to kill us both in seconds.

"She's really one hell of a character." Jackson commented, eyes glued to Scott receiving balls to the face. The silence that ensued had me worried.

"Jackson, you don't look too—"

"Shh! Look." He pointed at Scott, who was on his knees, the grass probably staining his jeans. Groaning, he ripped his hands free from the tape, clawing at the ground beside his head. His back arched, like a lion feeding from the kill.

No.

I wouldn't let Jackson see Scott Shifting.

Jackson stood up.

Immediately, a sharp crack sounded. Jackson gave an unmanly yelp. Looking back we both saw Marcie Millar with a grin so wide on her face it could have broken easily. "Sorry," She lamented, lifting her hands up in the universal sign. "Couldn't help myself." She gave a lopsided smile, moving towards me. I uncurled my balled hands on my knees. "Forgot my phone." She swooped her hand and lifted her Blackberry up from the bench.

"I didn't notice."

"Yeah, um, okay. Good for you." Marcie said narcissistically, and left again swaying her hips.

"Think she left a hand print?" I asked dryly, watching Scott roll onto his belly.

"Care to check for me?"

I snapped my head up impulsively. "What?"

Jackson chuckled. "I'm just kidding, Nora. Jeez, relax." He sat back down, a wary eye still watching Scott and Stiles talking. "And I look exactly like I feel, thanks for reminding me."

"Is it because of the scratch on your neck?"

"How'd you know?"

"I didn't. It was the only injury I knew you had. You haven't played lacrosse in a while."

"I think it's infected or something." He said grimly.

"You should get it checked out." I suggested, standing up.

"I will."

"I gotta go. See you round, Jackson." I didn't wait for him to say bye. I just left, running up to Scott and Stiles. They had concluded that being around Allison made him weak. Until the full moon he'd have to stay away from her. Which was apparently on Monday. Since today was Wednesday it gave me four days to prepare Vee.

Scott and Stiles went to put away the lacrosse gear. I was glad I hadn't run into Vee yet – and was going to stay away from the library. Still, a thought frayed my mind. Where was she?

"Hey, Gray." Patch said. "How are you?"

"Just a little worried about Vee. Can you help me find her?" I asked.

"Sure." Together, we scurried down just about every hallway. Including the one where Allison was hunched reading her book with Jackson breathing down her neck. She looked uncomfortable, but if her family were all hunters I wasn't very worried.

"Can you believe all the rumours Marcie's been saying about me?" Patch asked as small talk.

"Like what?"

"That I was the one who beat her up."

"I'm pretty sure that wasn't what she said to the cops. They found animal hairs on her body when Elliot found her. She's just trying to mess with you." I said.

"She's not doing it very well. Nobody believes her."

A smile touched my lips. "That's cause you're dating Danny, and everybody likes Danny. Ergo, by default, everybody likes you."

"I already knew that." He grinned, smelling of soap and spice. And something darker, richer. Smoke. But not cigarettes, something deeper. Tobacco.

I playfully punched his arm. "Don't get cocky."

"Danny likes cocky." He said.

"There's a fine line between cocky and confident. Personally, I think he's too good for you." I turned around after peering into an empty classroom. A mysterious glitter whipped past his fathomless black eyes. Hurt?

"Yeah, well, I think you're too good for Stiles."

"I'm not with—"

"The whole school saw you kiss him."

"But I don't know if that makes us a couple." I said.

"So get sure."

"How'd I do that?"

"Kiss him again." He said, bumping me with his hip. "Whatever his reaction is, means you are or are not a couple. I'll keep looking for Vee if you want. Go get him tiger." He grinned like the Cheshire cat. I didn't. A tiny dimple surface on his cheek. It was true what they say: couples do start to look alike.

I left to find Stiles anyway. This was a long time coming.

The bell sounded, high overhead. Students scattered over to go to class, filling up the hall quicker and faster than I could have imagined. My next class wasn't with Stiles. I had biology with Vee and Patch and Marcie.

Turning on my heel, my scream was muffled by a multicoloured plaid shirt. Stiles. I grinned up at him. The smile was infectious. "What?" He asked.

"I've been looking for you." I said, circling my arms around his neck. I didn't protest when he bent down to kiss me. _He _bent down to kiss _me_. The first touch of our lips was just that – a touch. The tiniest, most tempting brush of lips.

I curled my fingers in his hair, feeling his frizzy head. I smiled into the kiss, parting my lips. The only sound I heard was our lips moving together, we were encased in our own bubble – the rest of the world was barely even noticeable. He increased the pressure against my lips, hands moving down to my lower back. I felt his fingertips scrape up my back, ruffling my shirt, until his nails pressed into the ridges of my spine.

A throat was cleared, but we ignored it.

Our hips met, crushed together. My fingers moved to feel the texture of his short, buzz cut. His hands savagely crawled up my neck to tangle in my hair. The teasing pleasure from having my hair tugged on lightly rippled across my arms. It spread down my body to my legs and warmed my toes.

Heat flushed to my ears. I was suddenly very aware of our hips joined. He seemed hesitant to push back, but I forced him to. His eyes were sparkling, warm and dripping like honey. He smiled – his lips! – a swollen-lipped smile.

I licked my lips. Stiles tasted nice.

"I gotta get to class." I mumbled awkwardly. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Me too."

"Yeah, Stilinski, get into class." Coach growled. I felt the class dissolve into laughter. Scott flailed as he gestured covertly to Allison behind him. I winced and mouthed _sorry_ to him, before running down the corridor to escape. Before he let me go, Stiles long fingers were slowly weaving through my hair again moving singularly like a wave and he pressed a passionate, last chaste kiss to my lips. Parting, I waved and let him leave.

We were a couple.

That was the only thing I was thinking when I walked into biology. The teacher didn't even seem to mind I was late. He frowned, mumbled, and told me to sit beside Patch.

Vee was glaring. Because I had been late she was partnered up with Marcie. I mouthed _sorry _to her too. Raged, she mouthed cuss words back and when the teacher looked around, sensing her, she smiled and batted her eyelashes angelically. Patch nudged me. A slow smile spread across my face, and he laughed out loud.

* * *

"It's her. It's Allison." Stiles said. I shuffled out of class, avoiding Marcie and Patch's sultry grins, to stand besides Stiles. I didn't want to hold his hand and seem clingy, so instead I just hovered beside him as he and Scott talked. Not long after, Vee fell into pace beside Scott.

"What'd you mean?" Scot asked.

"Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon?" I glanced at Vee. She looked worried but interested, too. "You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her."

Scott nodded, "Okay."

Stiles continued. "Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field."

"Yeah I did."

"Well, so, that's what brought you back so you could score. And then after the game in the locker room, you didn't kill her! At least not how you were trying to kill me." He sighed. "She brings you back is what I'm saying."

"No no, but it's not always true. Because literally every time I-I'm kissing her or touching her—"

"No, that's not the same." Stiles said swiftly, surely. "When you're doing that you're just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex. You know?"

A goofy smile warped around Scott's face. Vee shared a look with me.

"You're thinking about sex right now, aren't you?" Stiles asked.

Still holding that goofy grin, Scott flicked his head up. "Yeah, sorry." He looked down, embarrassed like he had only realised Vee and I were there just now.

"That's fine. Look, back in the classroom when she was holding your hand, that was different." He looked suggestively at Vee. "Okay? I don't think she makes you weak, I think that actually she gives you control. She's kinda like an anchor." Stiles finished.

"Because I love her." Scott said simply.

"Exactly." Stiles added.

Scott's eyes widened. Vee giggled. "Did I just say that?" He whispered in horror. I rolled my eyes.

"Yes you just said that." Stiles said. I gripped his hand and squeezed. His mouth quivered, like he was trying to hold back a smile. He failed.

Vee's eyes travelled down to our intertwined hands, up to his face, and flashed like lightning to enthral mine. I grimaced internally.

"That's great now—moving on."

"No no no, really. I think I'm totally in love with her."

"And that's beautiful." Stiles said, patience warring thin. "Now, before you go off and write a sonnet can we figure this out, please?"

Vee barrelled past Scott, squeezed my wrist and gave the boys pointed looks. "Excuse us, we kinda have girl talk to do." As Vee pulled me behind her I stole a glance behind my shoulder.

Scott's mouth was moving in lament, but Stiles wasn't even looking at him. He waved awkwardly at me. I smiled. I contemplated blowing him a Marcie Millar kiss, or waving back but decided against both. Instead I looked down at my feet, grinned and turned back around to Vee.

I lifted up my elbows to slam through the girl's bathroom doors. Vee's hand was still curled around my wrist. She flexed her fingers. I winced. "Vee!" I called out, when she had stopped. Vee went about checking under each bathroom stall before whizzing around to gawk at me with shielded green eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Stiles Stilinski were a thing? Nora, this is like best friend one-oh-one. How fae has it gotten, did you kiss again?" She hugged her elbows. "Ooh, tell me tongue was involved. Momma needs some romance in her life. So," She added hastily, "Was it a peach kiss? Plum kiss? Al-fal-fa kiss, even?" Her eyes shimmered.

I jumped back.

Confusion crossed Vee's face. Golden thunderclouds rolled across her eyes, and flashed. Wincing, Vee pulled her hands away from her arms. She stared with incredulity at the lupine claws dotted with blood. I gripped her arm. Nothing.

She pointed at my wrist. Crescent circles were tattooed into them, scarlet rising to the surface of the broken skin.

"Vee?"

I felt like a crack sounded when she lifted her golden eyes to look at me. "I-I don't know, did my heart rate speed up? Like Scott's?"

"Maybe, um." I slung off my backpack and threw it at the door. "Vee, breath, okay?" I spun her around to look into the mirror. She took slow, soothing breaths and glared at her reflection.

I flicked on some cold water. Cupping her hands under it, I watched the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain. "Did my heart rate seriously just speed up because of you and Stiles?" I practically heard her roll her eyes. "Holy freakshow, look at me."

"Don't look at yourself, look at the urinals."

Vee darted her head towards the wall of urinals opposite her. "Oh sh—"

"Shh, someone's coming." I grabbed her shoulder and shoved.

The light from under the door was blocked, and chuckling was already swirling around us in the echo of the small bathroom. Boy's bathroom. Vee locked the door shut with a resounding click, and held her breath.

"Yeah, I'm taking Marcie to the Winter Formal." A deep voice I recognised as Thomas Rookery, infamous jock, said. Vee made silent gagging gestures.

"What about you Black? Got any ideas? I heard Danny might take you." He said in a gruffer voice, barking a laugh like a hyena.

"I'm bi, not gay. There's a difference you homophobe. Besides, Danny's got a boyfriend." Another one said. _Who's that?_ I mouthed at Vee. _Leon Black_ she mouthed back.

"That Patch kid? He's kinda creepy if you ask me."

"Nobody asked you, Matty. We know you're not gonna take a date to the Formal, you'll be taking pictures." Thomas spat.

"Ease up." Leon said.

"I'm just kidding." He laughed good-naturedly, and moved to switch on a tap. I heard him run his hands under it then flick it off in quick succession.

"So Matt, who are you taking?" Leon asked gentler, I saw his ankles cross as he leaned against the blow dryer. I could tell it was Leon by how massive he was. Leon Black was the son of a professional wrestler and his mother was a fitness trainer. So naturally he was a solid wall of muscle, on the lacrosse team and Harvey's ex-honey.

I only knew Matt Daehler from that photography class I had taken as a sophomore. He had an interest in it, and a skill for it, I couldn't understand. I gave up the class because – although I still like taking pictures – I found it pretentious.

"Are you gonna ask that new girl, Allison?" Thomas asked.

"Nah, she's with Scott McCall. I was thinking of asking Nora Grey, actually." Matt said. Vee raised an eyebrow at me but otherwise remained silent. Thomas – the jerk! – scoffed. I heard a belt clinking, then Matt joined the other two at the sink.

"Girl with legs that go on for miles?" Thomas asked, a little too interested.

"Tom!" Matt said.

"It's his way of giving her a compliment." Leon responded.

"Actually, it's my way of saying she's too good-looking for you." Vee shoved my shoulder. Her claw pinched the strap of my top, keening up a thread which left a gaping hole. I glared daggers at her.

"She's with Stilinski." Thomas said.

"No way." Matt jeered.

"Better luck next time, dude."

"He's right, Matt." Leon said. "Saw them making out today in Coach's class. Hey, doesn't she have a friend that does the eZine with her?"

Vee was suddenly pressing her ear against the door, which she really didn't need to do.

"Yeah, Vee Sky." Leon announced. "I think she's single. But you'd be mining for gold, with that one. She's a classy lady." Vee made an impressed face.

Still talking about the Winter Formal, the three of them left. Vee let out an audible sigh and she pushed out of the locked stall. I slithered my backpack up my arm, surprised Thomas hadn't taken it for himself, and turned back to Vee from the door.

"Well, babe, looks like you've got two suitors. And Stiles." She winked at me. "Derek Hale, Matt Daehler, who's next?"

"Vee, if I were you, I'd be more interested in the wolf claws and flashing eyes still going on with you." I said, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. I chose not to listen to her comment, and directed the spotlight back at her. She was more important right now, like it or not.

"I've gotta say," Vee continued, "I like Leon Black even more."

"When did you like him before?"

"When Harvey said he was her's."

"Of course." I said, sighing. "Vee, claws and eyes. Should I get Scott?"

"No!" She snapped. "Just... just stay with me. I don't want to be alone."

"Okay. But how am I supposed to help you?"

After a long pause, she said, "Maybe you could be my anchor." Her startling gold eyes bored into mine. How could I say no to her? She was my best friend.

"Okay, okay. Focus your hearing. Concentrate. Listen to my voice, my words. Find your inner peace and strain your ears to listen to my heart beat." I said, poetically more than hypnotically. I placed a hand over my heart to feel it. "Dun... dun... dun... dun..."

Vee's face lit up, unscrewing. Her ears wiggled, oddly. "Dun... dun... dun... dun..." She blew out a long sigh. I watched her claws draw back into her nails, making sickening sounds like a snake hissing. Eventually, she opened her summer green eyes again and spread out her fingers painfully, tentatively. "That was close."

"No kidding."

"But kinda easy. Like too easy. Is there some sort of catch? Are you my mate now, or something?"

"No! Werewolves aren't like regular wolves."

"Derek said that Archduke's wife was carrying _cubs_. C-U-B-S. Does that mean males knot? Oh God, what if they knot? Am I gonna be in heat then, too?"

"Vee, wrong things to think about."

"What are good things to think about?"

I gave her my best _duh_ look. "The full moon, that's this Monday. Trying not to kill me during it. Getting help from Derek between now and then. Take your pick, but they're your priorities. I was your anchor this time, but what about next time? Will you be able to hear me through a crowd of people? You've got to learn to—"

"Control it. Yeah. Damn. This isn't going to be easy, is it?" Vee asked.

"Probably not."

"Alright, I'm gonna go to Derek's then. Wanna come with?"

"Can't, Patch and I have... some stuff to talk about. I finally get answers today."

* * *

I didn't drive the Fiat, Vee drove me to school, so when I hunted Patch down he gave me a ride on his glossy black death trap of a motorcycle.

He passed me the black helmet with a tinted visor. Swinging my legs over, I felt very insecure on the narrow strip of seat. I squeezed my thighs around him. The engine growled, and he gunned the bike out of the school parking lot. I gripped the front of his shirt in a backward bear hug.

The wind sliced through my hair, tore at my clothes. I had never been on a bike before. It was a pure adrenaline-filled joyride. Sputtering, he killed the engine in front of my farmhouse.

"Mom home?" He asked, a hand on the small of my back to steady me. I passed him the helmet and nodded. "Feeling queasy?" I nodded at that, too. "It'll pass."

I fished out my key, fought the door for control, and barged inside with a hard crack as the door hit the wall behind it. "Mom, I'm home! And I brought a friend, is that okay?" It hadn't even occurred to me to ask her, now it seemed a little late.

"Is it Vee?" My mom asked, walking to greet us at the front door. She gave Patch a judgemental once-over. "Oh. A boy." She stretched out her hand. "Blythe Grey, Nora's mom."

Patch shook her hand. "Patch Cipriano."

"Patch?" They broke apart. "What an unusual name."

"It's not his actual name."

"Oh, what is?"

"If I told you that, ma'am, I'm afraid I'd have to kill you." Patch smiled a little fox smile. Mom laughed politely, patting him on the shoulder.

"Can you tell me if you have a girlfriend, Patch?"

"Mom!"

"Actually, I have a _boy_friend." Patch said, slowly. My mom's reaction was spontaneous.

She smacked her forehead. "I'm so sorry, Patch. I thought you were the boy Nora was talking to me about a few weeks ago. Jackson... something. Anyway, feel free to close the door upstairs, I'll be here if you need anything. Okay?" She smiled warmly, Patch nodded in return a little surprised.

Climbing up the stairs, Patch whispered, "Jackson? Really?"

"It was a lie!" I hissed back.

I clicked the door shut behind me once he was inside my room, and making himself comfortable. After looking around he sank his thumbs inside his dark skinny jeans and grinned. I opened my mouth, but let it drop when he sprang for the bed.

In a handful of sections he was sprawled over the covers, legs crossed, hands at his chest, grinning that fox-like smile at me through dark-hooded eyes.

"This is so not why I brought you here." I slapped his metal-studded boot.

Lazily, he peeled off his boots. "Why did you?"

"Answers. I want them, now."

"I thought you and I were gonna devise a strategically plan to rat out Elliot and Jules to the Argents." That fox smile was there again. He was making fun of me.

"That too. Answers first, though." I said stubbornly.

He looked thoughtful, rubbing the stubble starting to grow on his chin. Black eyes swimming, he looked up. "I'll tell you what. We'll make a... deal."

"A deal?" I felt like a kid again. When Lionel, Dorothea's godson, dared me to lick that shattered piece of glass we broke playing in the house. I knew I'd get cut. And yet I was still attracted to danger. I knew I was going to agree, if he agreed to answer my questions I'd wash his car in a bikini. Well... maybe not.

"You ask a question. I answer. I ask a question. You answer. Yes?" I nodded, eagerly. "You first."

I thought back to every time I talked to him. A kaleidoscope of memories shot through my brain. I picked one at random, one that had been rotting away at my mind for ages. "Full story. You said at Bistro's you had a history with one of the Hales. But not Derek. Explain. Was it one of the deceased ones?" I carefully selected deceased, despite Derek not being here I still wanted to be respectful. "Or Laura maybe?"

"Nope. It was the other survivor: Peter. Full story?" He rubbed his chin again. "Oh gosh, that could take a while. I'll cut it down for you. I met Peter when I was..." He looked up. "Maybe fifteen. He was older, hotter. Darker. I fell in love with him, he told me his secret. Derek's mom, his sister, didn't approve. Of course that only made him want me more. So, the night before the fire, we slept together. He's been comatose ever since." There was a glint in his eye, a sadness I couldn't pin down. Like, almost as if he knew the history between them wasn't exactly history. Like he still had a future with Peter. Hoped he did.

"His sister? Were his parents dead?"

"Ah ah ah. Only one question. It's my turn now, remember? And I want to know... hmm... you asked a personally question so I'll ask one too. Actually, pick which one you want to answer: Are you suicidal or why does Marcie hate you? I'm interested in both." His bluntness didn't catch me off guard. A lot of people asked about my scar. I didn't mind, and Patch wasn't exactly known for being a tactful guy.

"I'll answer both, but then you'll have to answer two as well." He nodded. "I'm not suicidal, I was born with this scar." I waved my wrist. "And Marcie and I have hated each other ever since kindergarten, really. Only then we didn't know it. My turn."

My phone started to sing. I went to grab it from where I lay it on my desk, saying as I did, "My two questions are: Do you love Danny and what's your real name?"

I picked up the phone. "Hello?" The other line crackled, then struck out. I held the phone a distance away from my face, staring at it.

"Who was that?"

"I don't know. They'll call back. Don't avoid the questions."

"I'll tell you my real name when you find out what Stiles' is." He grinned. "And I do." He looked down. I felt for him then, but that was part of the allure. As I reached out to touch him his head snapped up, eyes impossible to read and slicing into me. "My turn."

My phone rang twice, then stopped.

"Do you like Derek Hale?"

I checked my phone. "No." I answered curtly. "Although, we did make a deal. He's going to look in my father's study some time soon. Don't worry, I'll take out anything important." The number was unknown. I ignored it.

"My turn." I grinned. "What's the deal with Ms. Morrell?" Patch's phone rang a note louder than me. He lifted up a finger.

"Hello?" After a beat, "It's for you." He put the phone on speaker. "Talk Derek."

"Derek?"

"Yeah, I couldn't reach you. Said someone else was on the line." He said gruffly.

"Mmhmm, some unknown number. Why?"

"You should probably know, Scott and Stiles are here at the school. I think his boss, Deaton, is the Alpha and—" Something like a gust of wind roared against the phone. Only it wasn't a gust of wind. It was an actual roar. The sound reverberated through my bones – chilling me to the core. Red eyes flashed to my mind's eye. I remembered the night I almost ran over the boy on the road, that thing having stopped me. It was almost the same sound, maybe louder. Growling?

"You've gotta be kidding me." Derek mumbled.

"Who was that?"

"More like what was that?" Patch interjected.

"Scott just howled. Listen, I gotta go."

"Wait – I wanted to ask you. Are you going to teach Vee like you are Scott?"

"Yes, Nora, now's not the—"

"And Patch and I were thinking about telling the Argents. About Jules and Elliot. They'd believe us—"

"Nora that's great and all." He paused, inhaled.

"But Scott just howled loud enough to drag the entire state police to the school. I have to go. Bye." I shivered at the icy tone he had used. Patch looked up at me through his lashes.

"You okay?"

"Yes." I answered. My phone shrilled, vibrating in my hand. The caller ID said VEE so I answered. "Hey? Did you hear that?"

"Why yes I did, Nora." Ice crawled over my skin. "I'd say lovely as always only I can't see you. Haven't all day. Have you been avoiding me, Nora? You and Vee?"

"Why do you have Vee's phone?" I asked, through gritted teeth. Patch motioned for me to put it on speaker. I did.

"She let me. She's right here, say hi to Nora, Vee." A muffled scream ripped across the line – no static. She was gagged. "She's gagged, obviously. Can't have her barking at me." He knows. Ohmigod, he knows.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to sound brave.

"You. Come to the school, alone. We'll be waiting. Oh, and if you don't... why thank you Jules. Jules has just handed me a lovely silver knife. You can imagine what I'm going to do to her if you don't come, right?"

Patch held up a finger. "Wait!" He scribbled down something on his hand with a marker from her desk. I read aloud: "I know silver doesn't actually work on werewolves."

"Good for you, princess. But it's not the silver you should be worried about. It's the wolfsbane-laced studded rope around her neck. Oh look, there's a tree just outside with her name on it, too." _Click._

"Hello? Hello!" I cried helplessly into the phone.

But the connection was dead.


End file.
